Drastic Drabbles: The Canon Romance
by Loonynamelass
Summary: My first set of drabbles ever, it'll probably cover all canon pairings. All of the Weasleys, sans Charlie, and their mates, Luna/Rolf, Draco/Asteria, and many more! Potentially neverending, but each drabble is in itself complete. Read and review, please.
1. Suspicious Stares

**Title:** Suspicious Stares  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Chocolate  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** My first drabble ever! Bon appétit, and please comment and critique!

* * *

Hermione was certain that Ron was going bonkers.

All day, he had been glancing at her. She tried to ignore him and focus on catering to the children running amok, but she had never been able to block Ron out.

They weren't lascivious. Yet there was hunger there; his face lit up as though he'd spotted Molly's cooking.

"Ron, what's… up?" Hermione asked when she found him alone.

"Well, I just realized that everything about you is chocolate… Your eyes... Your hair has chocolate lowlights… And you're sweet."

She laughed, tossing him a chocolate box. Subtlety was not Ron's forte.


	2. Spring Cleaning

**Title:** Spring Cleaning  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Broom  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** Similar to the first in that Hermione is once again befuddled by Ron's suspicious antics.

Ron stared dumfounded at the pamphlet. Hermione frowned. It was only one of her mother's cleaning manuals- Molly had a dozen Lockharts. And, after nine years, she was mostly sure that he wasn't illiterate.

"What's the meaning of this?" he finally asked.

"…It's a person sweeping the floor."

"But... why?!" he cried disconsolately.

"Muggles can't just say 'Scourgify.'"

"We're leaving."

"Rose is finally meeting her other grandparents! What's gotten into you?"

"My broom's in my trunk! Your mum just said she was doing some spring cleaning." In a finality that settled the matter, he returned to the page before him.


	3. Names Mean Business

**Title:** Names Mean Business  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Easter Eggs  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** First HPGW drabble! ...Don't get on Ginny Weasley's bad side. Ever.

* * *

Ginny was never nice when upset.

Harry knew that she had reason, but fear impeded his urge to apologize- plus the convenient factor that she was on a business tour.

So what ought he do about this package?

The children devoured theirs without hesitation nor trouble, and now they glanced expectantly at their father.

Maybe he had misunderstood and she wasn't upset. He convinced himself that sweetness awaited him, and brought the brilliantly decorated egg to his mouth.

Though valuable protein, Harry nonetheless vigorously spat the raw yolk and white, choking on laughter and disgust. That was Ginny for you.


	4. Door of Opportunity

**Title:** Door of Opportunity  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Friend  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** Not exactly romantic… Huh. This is the first time I had trouble getting _more_ words in. What can you do with 2 words left? "on Easter," I suppose.

Also... the LJ people are so kind and eager to comment! Unlike the stoic fanfiction readers... Well, please, prove me wrong, won't you, and drop a review?

* * *

"Dear, a friend of yours is at the door."

It was strange of Ginny to not say a name. Most of Harry's friends had been from Hogwarts, and any friends afterward he had met with his wife at his side. So who could this be?

His visitor appeared as uncomfortable at the description as Harry was. Then again, there were other reasons to make Dudley Dursley uncomfortable in front of the wizarding residence, facing his once loathed cousin on Easter.

"Well?" Ginny said expectantly, pulling Dudley inside, crossing the barrier for them. "Welcome the man! He's had a long journey."


	5. Plotting for Peace

**Title:** Plotting for Peace  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Storms  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** Wow. This needed a lot of cutting down… So, kind of a continuation of "Easter Eggs," in that Harry and Ginny are still fighting… But the tone isn't quite as fun this time, and it's an equal burden (not Harry needing to apologize…). Anyways. Enjoy!

* * *

The Potter kids tittered in the hall, the night dark and clear. James was mastermind, Albus diplomat, and little Lily central to performance.

"You're the only one small enough to convince them," insisted Albus, opening the door to where their parents lay fuming. "We have to do this."

The determined conspirator wormed into her parents' embrace.

"Daddy! Mummy!" cried the tearful three year old incoherently. "Make thunder away! Hears booming- can't sleep!"

Ginny understood first, suggesting, "Let's stop fighting… dear," using their first endearing term in days.

Harry nodded at the now asleep baby. Outside, the boys cheered their triumph.


	6. Inspired by Art

**Title:** Inspired by Art  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Spell  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** Very loosely based off of the prompt; but I didn't want to do the literal "Hermione is good at spells" relationship, nor the whole "you've put a spell on me" romantic idea… it just didn't seem to do this flexible topic justice. Finally, I used one of the first things I remembered with the word "spell:" Molly Weasley's favorite singer of all time…

* * *

"It's left me for a speeeeeell."

Ron winced at his wife's warbling. He knew he had to be considerate and sacrificing, her being pregnant and all, but it was really giving him a migraine.

Glancing back at the Shakespearean sonnet compilation she had forced upon him, two lines wavered in front.

"_I love to hear her speak, yet well I know  
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;"_

He scanned the poem in delight. He knew that this would shut Hermione up better than any Silencing Charm.

"_I have seen roses damask'd, red and white."_

"Hermione! I've named her!"


	7. Names: The Sequel!

**Title:** Names Mean Business- The Sequel  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Love  
**Rating:** PG (with a _slight slight slight_ something that could be interpreted PG13)  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** ...So, don't you think salesladies can be a little over the top?

"Hermione, love?" Ron called.

"Since when do you call me love?" Hermione's suspicions heightened at the scowl on her husband's face.

"I'd ask the same of that saleslady you were liaising with today." At Hermione's bewilderment, Ron continued accusing hotly, "I know I'm not a perfect spouse, and that with your looks you'll undoubtedly be romantically pursued, but I thought you had more decency than-"

"Wait," Hermione spluttered. "You… think I'm having an affair with the MagiMart employee? Who's _female_?"

"Never know these days." This dejected muttering sent Hermione into throes of hysteria.

"Don't worry, I much prefer _your_ nicknames."


	8. Breaking the Boundaries of Books

**Title:** Breaking the Boundaries of Books  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Book, from hpgw100, even though it's a Ron/Hermione  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100! As an English/Shakespearean sonnet, the rhyme pattern follows ABABCDCDEFEF and then a concluding couplet. Iambic pentameter means each line is ten syllables alternating _unstressed, stressed, unstressed, stressed, unstressed, stressed, unstressed, stressed, unstressed, stressed_.  
**Warnings:** I really am breaking the rules here, just like Ron: Ron/Hermione on an hpgw100 prompt... Sadly, it was not accepted by the rhr100 community for that.  
**Notes:** Related to the last Ron/Hermy I did, in which Hermione was pregnant and had forced Ron to read Shakespearean Sonnets. Oh yeah, and it's shamefully sweet and corny. Let's just say that the occasion that warrants it is May Day.

Your love for reading's never faded yet

Feels cheap to give a book for every Day

I know that you don't mind but still I bet

Appreciative joy results this way

I'm gifting you with skills that I possess

And never knew existence of 'til now

Archaic but cool medium to profess

That reading other men I won't allow.

My talent's quite unprecedented, yes.

I, quite the dumb*** when it comes to you

At school the average student, probably less.

Without your perseverance, we'd not brew

The inspiration with which I make art,

Originating nowhere but the heart.

...

"You're literate?"

* * *

**Second A/N:** I'm sorry for neglecting this fanfiction. Actually, I've been writing quite a few drabbles on livejournal but have been too lazy to put them here (which is why the original Note references May Day). With no further ado, I'll be updating daily until this story is up to speed.


	9. Creationism vs Evolution

**Title:** Creationism vs. Evolution in the Wizarding World  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Book and Mother  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100.  
**Warnings:** Not offensive or religious at all, if the title misled you.  
**Notes:** Wow. The original version had 192 words. 192 words. Not kidding.

"What the _hell_?" A bewildered Ginny brandished an unusually thick Quibbler. Harry accepted the proffered gazette, reading **"**_**HARRY POTTER- OR HARRY ROWLING?**_**"**

Astonished, he flipped through the 26 page article. "I've no clue."

Ginny sighed, disappointed. "Do you think it's plausible?"

"Love Luna, but far as I can tell," Harry reasoned, a few pages in, "this is Crumple-Horned Snorkack droppings. Seriously, some muggle writes books, and through the 'magic of reading,' a trait of muggles, mothers the entire wizarding world?"

"Yeah… Ridiculous," Ginny agreed, but privately couldn't help wondering. Every legend contains its residuum of truth, quoth muggle James Baldwin.


	10. James' New Trick

**Title:** James' New Trick  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Kiss and Alohamora  
**Rating:** PG (references to activities that could be PG-13, but that's imagination's work)  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** The idea of Hermione and Ron causing harmless mayhem amuses me.

When the Weasleys babysat James, it was cause for concern.

Hermione and Ron were not careless caretakers- quite the opposite. Unfortunately, the nature of their care was mischievous.

"They're obsessed!" groaned Ginny few nights after their latest prank. "Usually it would be sweet, but now it's gone too far."

"I know," Harry bit. "Now we can't do anything less chaste than kissing until they teach James a new trick."

"…It was clever, though, wasn't it? James must've loved to learn to open locks with Alohamora." The couple could not remain upset at their old friends' antics. And besides, kissing's fine enough.

* * *

**A/N: Just as the last A/N said, I'm playing catch-up with these drabbles. One a day til they're all done. Good stuff, right?**


	11. Glass of Water

**Title:** Honey, the Glass of Water is Untouched  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Mother and Broken  
**Rating:** PG (references to information that should be understood with puberty, but have no scarring potential.)  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** Some of the ellipses have to do with girl stuff.  
**Notes:** Exceedingly compatible with "Inspired by Art."

Hermione returned from the restaurant's restroom to: "You alright? How's she?"

"Kicked me harder than usual," puffed Hermione, easing her chair out.

"She's got her mother's spirit," Ron said encouragingly, overjoyed at her positive response. Dinner had been unprecedentedly perfect. In eight months, Ron could finally handle Hermione!

When she sat, "Oof!" distracted him from his revelations. "Rose bothering you?"

"No… It's like I'm on my… impossible…" Ron waited for Hermione to solve the conundrum. "…Oh*mywaterbroke." Claws clenching him interrupted a bewildered glance at her pristine water glass. "That wasn't kicking-!" Her eyes widened. "CALL A CAB!"

Ron apparated instead.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Just as the last A/N said, I'm playing catch-up with these drabbles. One a day til they're all done. Good stuff, right?**

**Oh yeah, and please review this one. I haven't gotten back any feedback for this drabble in particular and I'm an anxious young drabbler seeking her audience's approval, so...  
**


	12. Dating Ginny

**Title:** Dating Ginny  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Ginny/Harry, from the point of view of a secondary character.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 500. The concluding verse is extra and does not go toward word count; it's in iambic pentameter, which I hope you enjoy.  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** This was inspired by Dukebrymin's portrayal of Dean as a shallowly over-jealous boyfriend, but entirely canon in the breakup.

* * *

Dating Ginny is the most unsatisfying experience to ever be bestowed.

She was wonderful, mused Dean as he sulked beside Harry's empty bed. Witty, affectionate… Whenever a disagreement came about, they agreed to disagree. Except on one subject.

Harry.

Dean knew his girlfriend well (how could he not, loving her?), enough to know that she did not reciprocate his feelings. "There's more to faithfulness than physically," Dean declared.

"You think I'm… telepathically kissing other guys?" In retrospect, Dean hadn't expected her to understand; it was only hope. She was Gryffindor, braving opposition to be right. (No agreeing to disagree.) Tension intensified. Dean's bitterness became more pronounced. Ginny became frustrated as well; with every gentlemanly move, she shattered windows with epitaphs of female empowerment.

Michael had warned him. "She's like a drug. You take more, but it never lasts." Dean turned away with disbelief. Dean, Ginny- same House, same wants. He'd been too naïve to comprehend young love. But that love changes your perspective. Ginny didn't have that…

Instead, his proclamation only inspired conflict. If he attempted putting his arm around her or hand in hers... "My hand's a pleasant temperature," she'd hiss icily, or "I don't need your steering to walk." And that led to- Yesterday, they had been leaving the common room, him trailing a bit behind. Of paranoia, she shrieked at him for helping her through the portrait hole.

"You wouldn't care if it was Harry," shouted Dean, surprising himself. He had expected an honest denial. "You love him more than me. Like Gone With the Wind… but that's muggle. You wouldn't understand."

"You're insulting my intelligence?"

Dean was on a roll. "You just don't get it! I've told you, time and time again. What'll get through? I lo-" and Dean felt sick. Feelings she wouldn't return should never be uttered… "…loathe your apathy. Can't you be considerate of my concerns?"

"You want to be the 'dominant' male who dictates my associations!"

"Your resistance proves it! You haven't even tried denying youandHarry!"

"I can't believe you're this petty. What_ about_ him? I crushed when I was twelve. I'm fifteen. I know what I want." Dean's hopes rose and hand brushed her face, causing the darkness to consume half. She knocked it aside and left, calling, "And it's not some PMSing berk." And so Dean stood before the dozing Fat Lady before reluctantly turning in. _She_ was PMSing.

Nineteen days later, as imagined years unfolded before him, his surliness decreased, their happiness increased, and in one respect he'd been correct. She didn't care; not like he had. Heartbroken boys were brief entertainments; her heart remained, subconsciously, in the throes of Harry. But they'd heal; Ginny wouldn't date someone so susceptible.

He was Gryffindor. So some girl had found true love and he felt like Galinda learning Fiyero loved Elphaba. Ginny wouldn't know the reference.

Memories shot garbled through his head, emerging in a feeling of peace. Expressing this closure to _his_ only true love, art, he withdrew a pen.

_**

* * *

**_

_**What was this fabled love, at any rate?**_

_**Such love had only turned to bitter hate**_

_**What first he labeled fruitless pining for-**_

_**Relationship declining even more!**_

_**John Green: A breakup doesn't happen to you,**_

_**It happens with you, and accepts as true-**_

_**Then Harry/Ginny's not so bad at all.**_

_**Dean Thomas finds his way through rise and fall.**_

_**To tell her of her erring would be cruel.**_

_**She'd never meant to use them as a tool.**_

_**And though undoubtedly it happened so,**_

_**For Dean, at least, it's best to let it go.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**A/N: Wow, I'm actually done catching up. Now I just need to write the current drabbles...**_**  
**_


	13. Summer Come and Summer Go

**Title:** Coming Summer  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** End of the school year!  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 375 (100-1000)  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** I originally made this interesting one concerning Argus Filch, but then I realized that it had absolutely nothing to do with Harry/Ginny. Therefore, I present this to you instead.

Harry always dreaded school letting out.

It had always meant the exodus of the wizarding world, a return to a dreary, neglected life with the Dursleys. While Ron, the Weasleys, Dean, Seamus, Pravati, and Lavender all lightened considerably as they noted the rapidly waning days on the calendar, every year without fail, Harry noted time's passage with alarm instead…

Of course, he knew, after perhaps what could be considered a year's vacation, that he would certainly not be returning to the Dursleys. Where were they now? Probably in Majorca, not a care for the sea slug they had housed for ten years consecutively and six summers after.

Though he knew all of this, he could not help the sense of foreboding that pervaded him even now. Old habits die hard.

Still, there were some habits he could shed, if the occasion warranted it.

Death is never warranted. _Oh_, now he's remembering… Fred… Tonks… Lupin… Colin…

"Why the long face?" She studied him closely. "Everything's done with, now. He's gone, finished. You survived it all."

"How can you tell?" Harry asked brokenly, unashamed to lose his façade of strength to his fiance. "Are you a dream sent over by You-Know-Who?"

"What?"

"Like the last time…" Harry knew he was no longer making sense, but the sick of summer swept over him. The long anticipation, the disappointed resigning to unacknowledgement, the frustration, the silent tears… they all flooded over him now, the day after the Hogwarts Express had left them at Platform 9 ¾, on one final stop.

Ginny understood. "I'm not Sirius… I'm not going to disappear. You're not just getting your hopes up, Harry. The dementors aren't going to take me. We'll live together. In Grimmauld Place, if you want."

"You promise?" Harry whispered. There were so many funerals, too many funerals. How could he tell that his own future wasn't being buried as well?

...

Harry always dreaded school letting out. It was always an end, an end of joy and purpose and belonging. An end of magic.

But then, with Ginny's lips on his in promise, he started to realize that this time, the magic wasn't ending. And when Ginny's kissing Harry like that, he figures that it could warrant breaking a habit.

* * *

**Review, of course. :)** My second drabble for the hpgw_drabbles community.


	14. Peace: The Sequel!

**Title:** Peace  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Anger  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** Excessive sentence fragments. Purposefully done, I assure you.  
**Notes:** Even happy things can cause anger when you're angry. For emphasis, I recommend reading the periods as suppressed exclamation points. Oh yeah, and continued from Glass of Water.

Love's anger.

Red hot, coursing through her veins, electrifying her split ends.

Red hair. Coursing broomstick through cool air. Electrifying, every moment.

What hath befallen peace? Peace of a muggle dentist, muggle dentist, muggle home, muggle treehouse, muggle childhood, muggle freedom…

Caught up in a newfangled world, best to fit in, excel, conquer. Still not fitting in, behind, conquered.

Fear's anger.

Black hearted, destructive, unfair.

Black handsome hair, before baldness. Destructive, before destroyed. Unfair, until overthrown.

A despicable man dissolves. Another man remains forever.

Pain's anger.

A baby born; delirium ended.

And she's not angry anymore.

Sleep in heavenly peace.


	15. History Repeats Itself

**Title:** History repeats itself  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Explosive  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Wow. I was just editing randomly, and then it became a perfect 100. Wow. Also, I'm not hinting that Angelina cheated on either of the twins. All I know is that Fred asked her out in Fourth Year, and then he died three years later. Some time in the indeterminate future, she marries George and has three kids. So by loving both of them, she loved them separately, and differently; boyfriend and husband… Now, with no more ado:

Angelina blearily awoke to another explosion.

Probably those Weasley twins experimenting… she reasoned, sinking back into her pillow. The movement nudged against her husband's warm torso.

First reaction: Only one twin left.

Second reaction: Who knew a Weasley twin would actually settle down and have kids?

Third reaction: What about the new Weasley twins?

She hopped out of bed and scurried down the stairs. While knowing and loving both originals had prepared her for the arduous task, the experience also enabled her to sleep through most of the damage.

Final reaction: That's what I get for marrying one.

* * *

**A/N:** Another pairing! Oohlala! :D


	16. Payback Present

**Title:** Payback Present  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Laughter  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** Written childishly, to fit the protagonist's character. Also, it isn't too romantic, but as it involves both Ginny and Harry, hopefully it counts.  
**Notes:** This was originally 123 words. This is nearly as momentous as when my time for the 75 meter dash was 12:34 twice, two weeks apart. Hm… Oh yeah, and this goes hand in hand with my previous drabble, James' New Trick.

It all starts with a mischievous giggle.

Anything mischievous is automatically James property. After all, his dad insists that he's Joyful, Automatically Mischievous, Energetic Sugar-high.

But this time James' mum giggles! Has James corrupted them?

And then Uncle Harry starts giggling, too! Far too mischievous, methinks!

Who to tell? Rose sleeping, Mum and Dad away…

"Hey, Hugo?" calls Giggler #2. "We've a gift for you." Peering cautiously over the covers, I'm accosted by an enormous furry beastie!

Suspicions disappear- it's tickling me!

"It's a niffler!" says Aunt Ginny brightly as I laugh uncontrollably.

I can't wait to show my parents!


	17. Petunia's Preferences

**Title:** Petunia's Preferences  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Letters  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Wow. Guess how many words this was originally- 82. I never though I'd see the day that I had to lengthen it. Can you guess which section I added on?

Petunia Dursley didn't like letters.

Shabby old things strewn carelessly on her doorstep; always smudged and dusty after being trudged miles through post-carrier bags, sorting machinery, and whatever tomfoolery those snooping postmen get up to.

This delicately placed letter was pristine, glistening faintly of warmth and grandeur.

It was magic. The last time this happened...

She opened it, revealing a wedding invitation. Ginevra Weasley and Harry James Potter cordially invite you, Petunia Evans Dursley. On the back was the scrawling signature of _Harry Potter_, with Lily's loop and slant…

It was too beautiful to discard.

Petunia Evans likes letters now.

* * *

**A/N:** What do you guys think "the last time this happened" was?


	18. Decorated Soldiers

**Title:** Decorated Soldiers  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Fathers  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Why is it that my Harry/Ginny drabbles are becoming less and less romantic? And less humorous? Come _on_, muse! Wake up!

I have many fathers. My most immediate father is late since my early months.

My grandfather is also absent on this fine Father's Day. The Cause that swept up all of Britain took many from me.

I declare, I'm proud to have been born to such gallantry. Privately, though, I want to witness these martyrs.

Luckily, my final father fulfills all requirements.

He offers advice through apprenticeships, home through hard times, and love through life. His wife's, my godmother-in-law, blood linked to a very special woman of mine…

But that he fought alongside all my fathers- _that _connection I treasure most.

* * *

**A/N:** This post is unique to fanfiction. Which is a first- usually livejournal gets the drabbles long before fanfiction does. So, please, **review**.


	19. Earthquake

**Title:** Earthquake  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Alignment  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** Character death. JKR did it, not me.  
**Notes:** This is not connected to my previous fanfic, "History Repeats Itself." It can be sequenced, but they are not intended in such a manner.

The teacups and kettle settle in perfect alignment.  
He's Beater and clown. She's Chaser and belle.

Sharp tea gushes into the unsuspecting goblet.  
"Oi! Angelina!"

Cream to smooth the drink-  
It's a wild night at the Yule Ball; dancing dangerously close, impossibly impeccably insane movements, barely believable that only her sweater was removed.

Dollop of sugar to sweeten-  
Three years of sweet courtship-

Tilt, preparing to sip-  
He proposes with the ring bought of labor; she accepts.

An earthquake shatters the silence. Teacups crash to the floor.  
She returns to Hogwarts with him. She leaves without.

Unquenched, her thirst remains.


	20. Naughty, Knotty

**Title:** Naughty, Knotty!  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Rain  
**Rating:** PG …very very mostly  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** No particular sequential significance. Perhaps the self-consciousness is Hermione's version of a midlife crisis. A little lesson on self-esteem, and those husbands always know what to say. (sensing my sarcasm?) Oh, and **there are puns. I love puns! FUN PUNS!** Want to find some?

Hermione's hair was bushy.

No Kidding.

Sometimes, Ron joked that he lost his wife.

Not Funny.

Sometimes, George bewitched birds to nest.

Again, Unamusing. Especially with bird droppings. (Thank Merlin for Scourgify!)

The only change occurred in precipitation (or showering), and it became stringy, sticky... Rain/shower kissing was doubly sweet- Ron thought she was romantic/sexy, but t'was only the unbushy feeling.

They tried, "You rock 'bushy!'" and "Ron wouldn't date someone ugly", but vainly.

So still she showered and prayed for rain.

Finally, t'was Ron with the winning reassurance: "At least it's not greasy like Snape's!"

_Slap!_ is just that satisfying.

* * *

**Final A/N:** Edited slightly, 6/16/2010. Thank you, DukeBrymin, for reading and reviewing- and thus I knew the drabble was not complete in its form.


	21. World Cup Wars

**Pre-A/N:** **Concerning the last drabble-** for the ten people who read it before I edited the ending, I'd suggest you go back to reread it. It's got a significant resolution shift, since I got a lightbulb "THIS IS WHAT YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE!" Yeah, so, to you ten, thataway.

* * *

**Title:** World Cup Wars  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Football  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** I could make a Neopets analogy as well, but somehow I don't believe that Hermione would be the type to play computer games. Or that that would be quite as effective revenge. Oh yeah, and no sequential significance.

Apparating as fast as legally viable, Ronald Weasley rushed to the wizarding wireless so as not to miss a moment of the Quidditch World Cup's first match.

Predictions? The Falcons would crush the Cannons into the ground. Literally.

As the announcer's first words mellifluously emerged, they were immediately blocked out by a competing presenter.

-~?~-

A television set, Impervioused and Transfigured by one Mrs. Granger-Weasley, blearily started up. Hermione reclined on the sofa, smiling as she matched Dean's rapt descriptions to the scenes unfolding on the screen.

The scorned-for-sports wife cackled victoriously at Ron's disappointed bewilderment. Football's the new Quidditch, baby.


	22. Losing Ends

**Title:** Means to the Ends  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Sacrifice  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** The setting and characters are hopefully apparent. It's a mix of determination and solemnity. And oh yeah- so what if Shakespeare's a muggle? The plays are universal, I reckon. And thank goodness this is romantic- I thought I was losing my touch!

He walked away.

Why even bother? Maybe she could've managed lasting relationships with Dean, or Michael if she hadn't been pining for a lost cause…

It was her sacrifice. And she'd make it again, because he never said "I don't love you." If he'd sacrifice himself to slay Voldemort (for him, I'll say the name), then she'd sacrifice herself as Hermia would for Lysander, before mischievous fairies entered.

Among Dumbledore's death, Fawkes' flight, funerals- just another ending…

He sacrificed his world to protect it. She? Her heart, instead.

To the burning coffin she pleaded: _Don't let these endings be permanent._

_

* * *

_

_A/N: This garnered a surprising amount of LiveJournal feedback. What do you guys think makes it special?  
_


	23. Honest Corruption

**Title:** Honest Corruption  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Awakening  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** Character death (but discreetly done)  
**Notes:** I always wondered why Percy ended up with that Audrey chick… Dolores=Dolores Umbridge, whose identity you'd better recognize. Mafalda=Mafalda Hopkirk, the woman who sends Harry those polite letters when magic happens at the Dursley home, and whom Hermione impersonates in DH... The "morality" reference is about how the Department of Mysteries had apparently found out that Muggleborns were stealing magic. And Percy believed them.

_Ron and Ginny can't be corrupted yet! _Percy grumbled to himself as he shifted through stenographer notes: most his, some Mafalda's. _So why'd they believe Dad, never successful, barely able to provide for his family, stubborn, simple, poor…?_

And so Percival worked, unhappily convinced of his perfect place in society. It was just brotherly compassion that pained him so…

Dolores demanded he ensure all arrests on the "exterminated" list were recorded. "No survivors! *giggle.*" Percy reminded himself that t'was all for the survival of magic and morality.

And then he saw something that awakened him.

_Penelope Clearwater d. 1998 Azkaban_


	24. Unanticipated Talent

**Title:** Unanticipated Talent  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Potion  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Nowhere on the timeline yet, I'm afraid. But has the potential for a sequel, does it not?

Cauldron, dusty textbook, and an apothecary's worth of ingredients were splayed out. The Weasleys were occupied with their own agenda, and St. Mungo's no option- Ginny's fever could rise under the care of frantic fans and paparazzi!

Where to begin? Harry's education in Potions left him somewhat unconfident. Extreme aversion to the teacher soon transferred to the subject. Though he'd somehow scraped an E, and the Half-Blood Prince served him well, time also did well to empty his mind. The post-war remedial course was noticeably weak on potions.

But if it meant Ginny would get better, he'd be the best.


	25. For the Sake of Caring

**Title:** For the Sake of Caring  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Levicorpus  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Now has a place on the timeline (only with the previous drabble, and with nothing else). Before marriage and possibly even before dating… Belongs directly after my previous drabble, "Unanticipated Talent." Oh, and to make things clearer, in this slightly AU Ginny's currently a professional Chaser on the Quidditch Team that Harry captains, and their relationship is actually platonic. **OR** this is a different kind of AU in which it all occurs at Hogwarts, though that does invalidate some of the statements made in the previous drabble. Well, whatever. The point is, there's a Quidditch team that their both on and that Harry is in charge of. Yeah.

Ginny blearily awoke to her frantically brewing employer. "You're awake?" A sweaty hand snaked its way to her forehead. "Fever's gone?"

"Yes?"

"You've been sick for days, George and Ron's families couldn't…" What could she do about this? All she'd wanted was some sick-leave when she gobbled that Fever Fudge. Her family's loyalty left it to her.

The explanation was terminated by a silent _Levicorpus!_ (dratted Potions textbook) and ranting reminiscent of her fourth year.

"I didn't realize how much you cared about Quidditch…"

"Quidditch?" She crashed to the floor. "I care about _you_!"

Dead silence. Then she kissed him.


	26. Not MY Nonsense

**Title:** Not_ My_ Nonsense  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Duty  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** What hath befallen Ron's sense of duty? And JKR set up the rain; I just used it mercilessly.

Voldemort was torn off of his chest and it left. But the momentum had carried him into the forest, blood's pounding blocking out Hermione's pleading.

Then the rain poured.

Without the locket, everything else rushed back. Oh Merlin's saggy- oh _Harry_. _Hermione_. What had he done?

The wards sealed against him.

Loyalty: his best trait. Sure, fourteen with hormones and -, he'd lost his way. The Mirror of Erised showed him with cup, badge and crown. But he's no Percy, and he couldn't… wouldn't… had.

Faults are human. Controlling faults is necessary. Voldemort had taken control.

Who was to blame?


	27. Ice Cream Insanity

**Title:** Ice Cream Insanity  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Knickers, Ice  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** *She's a madwoman! Run away!* ...Did I just allude to the movie Flushed Away? O.O  
**Notes:** Wow. I wrote four drabbles before satisfied. One I found anticlimactic, another far too dirty, and another a mix of both. This, however, is an endearing and very **LOONY** drabble that uses the prompt creatively (or at least, I think so). Enjoy!

Hermione calculates: _This is going to be so romantic._

Ron anticipates: _This is going to be delicious._

Harry thinks: _Why'd I agree to judge a one-armed dessert race?_

The knickerbocker glory arrives with one, shining spoon.

The couple nearly faints- then lunges. Ron grabs the spoon and is halfway to devouring when Hermione latches on. They struggle with the scoop, shoving their faces towards it in hopes of capturing some in their mouths.

…What happens next goes without saying…

"I love _Lady and the Tramp_," Ron sighs.

"I love ice cream," Hermione complies.

"You stole each other's lines!" Harry cries.

* * *

**Second A/N**: **If you're curious as to the other drabbles… **One of them involved James throwing ice down Uncle Ron's back without knowing that Ron had gone commando. Another had Ron and Hermione having a date in the muggle world, where she promises to introduce him to a knickerbocker glory and he guesses, wrongly, at what that could be. And then one involved Hermione, before their honeymoon, carefully watching Ron eat ice cream and pondering it sensually…

**Third A/N**: I worked hard on this one… There's symbolism and cultural references and rhyming… So please comment/review.


	28. The Whole Truth

**Title:** The Whole Truth  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Regret  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count (should be 100 words exactly):** 100  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** A Policy of Honesty. On the timeline… how about the 1999 Gryffindor alumni reunion?

"Truth or dare, Weasley?"

"Truth." He remembered McLaggen's last dare.

"Hm… Your girlfriend's here … Anything in your relationship you regret?"

Ron mulled it over, "Yeah…" Gasps filled the room; Hermione's face showed hurt. "But it's just-"

"Don't bury yourself further, mate."

_You're no mate of mine_, Ron fumed, immediately turning to only her. "'Mione- I regret… making you cry, first year… I regret losing you for Lavender… fighting with you… and leaving because I was scared… and not running back to you when you were calling after me…" he confessed thickly. "But I've never regretted that you were mine."

* * *

**Second A/N:** Well, that was shamelessly fluffy. Anyway, I've just joined a little something called "Fanfictioners Against World Hunger." It simply entails playing **free rice dot com** and advertising aforementioned group to your fellow fanfictioners. If you'd like to get involved, just go to my profile and send me a message, and I'll email you the details.

If you don't want to commit to fully joining (I promise, the commitment isn't very difficult at all), and it's not too much trouble, try donating 100 grains of rice with a review. A little bit goes a long way to save the world.


	29. Just Beyond the Burrow

**Title:** Just Beyond the Burrow  
**Author:** loonynamelass, though the in the challenge it was anonymous  
**Prompt:** This image: http:/th00. deviantart. net/fs50/PRE/i/2009/277/7/d/Wedding_Day_by_Rae_F. jpg, include the word "wedding," exactly 150 words  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 150  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** Such a stunning picture. I can only hope this drabble did it justice. **And whether it did or not, I WON THE CHALLENGE! O.O**

**. . . . . . .  
**

Among tall weeds stood the finely attired groom, fidgeting uncomfortably in the muggle suit. He'd _Impervious_'ed the fabric, 'course; Molly might kill him if it ripped.

Harry wanted perfection, but his image of familial life was scarred. He wanted his children to never fear undernourishment, but knew that abused children often grew to be abusive parents.

And this was precisely why he fretted that he was set to become Vernon Dursley.

. . . . . . .

Ginny waited inside as her family fussed around trying to find _her_ fiancé. Finally, she'd had it. She tore out of her room- what'd she care for wedding superstition? If he saw her before the procession, so be it. His attendance was first priority.

Somehow, she knew where to look. Harry appreciated the Burrow's disorder, and would not venture far.

"Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"

. . . . . . .

_We're in this together_.

He rested his forehead on hers. "I am now."

* * *

**Second A/N:** I wrote a couple of these, actually. If you guys want, I'll post them...  
Also, the reason that this took such a long time coming is basically because I wasn't allowed to reveal the author until the contest (at the livejournal community "hpgw_drabbles") was over.


	30. Wedding Day Drafts

_07/06/2010 5:14 AM UTC Loonynamelass: Can we submit more than one drabble?_

_07/06/2010 6:06 AM UTC fbo66: I can only accept one drabble for the competition so that it's fair but after the comp is finished if you want to write more then that would be wonderful! :)_

**Alright, so with the encouragement of... the one person who reviewed the last drabble, here are the other drabbles that I considered to turn in instead. Of course, "Just Beyond the Burrow" is the most refined, but these aren't so bad themselves. :) Enjoy!  
**

**

* * *

**

**Title:** First Draft

**Notes:** I opted out of this one due to its tone. It expresses a sort of senility which, to be honest, Harry very well could have, seeing as the rest of his life is assumed by most to be a retirement of sorts. It is true to the picture in the expressions on the couple's faces- and that, I've tried to keep constant in all versions, including the winner. But it's just so _asleep_ that I basically ruled it out right after writing it. What do you guys think?

Also, in "Just Beyond the Burrow" I found, to myself, a more interesting reason for Harry to be doubting himself other than general confusion.

* * *

Harry just wanted to close his eyes.

The days of preparation had blurred past him, through him… He could hardly even remember what all the bustle was for.

When his best mate had awoken him, freckles alight with excitement, mouth missing words, "_Blimey_, Harry, not a Day to be sleepin' in!" Harry registered the capitalization of "Day" and assonance of "in in" but understanding still eluded him.

Poor Ron disappointedly abandoned his post to summon help. The groom, more occupied with discovering time, place, and function, dashed out. Hermione would have to soothe Ron's confusion later.

The clear mind he sought eluded him still...

Sneaking into nature and letting down lids aroused his senses… Caressing breeze… Gentle pressure of an arm snaking around his waist… Eyes and heart were stirred open, and his hands reached up to her face.

Aha! Our wedding! Her presence brought resolve to the weary words.

* * *

**Title:** Second Draft  
**Notes:** This one was written as basically the previous attempt, but from Ginny's point of view. The reason of doing that, was, still, to give life to the tone that was so uncharacteristically tired in the last one. This one was a real contender to be used, and I edited it a dozen times.

* * *

It was her wedding day, but something was missing.

Ginny soon discovered "something's" identity, venturing into the open. Hermione ushered her back: "Harry mustn't see you before the ceremony!"

Ron's voice responded, "He won't; he's dropped off the face of the planet!" simultaneously with Mum's stressed, "Not dressed yet is the real concern!"

Hours ahead of schedule, she paid more attention to her brother. "Harry's missing?"

"Yeah, I went to wake him and he wouldn't, so I convinced George," Ginny winced for her fiance's fate, "but Harry'd scarpered!"

"Hm…" After checking the clock once more, she wandered outside. "Where would Harry find his peace?" she murmured, tracking a stationary pinprick disturbing the horizon. Facing her target, she hadn't been seen yet. Eyes closed, face calm… She acted on instinct and embraced him.

Anxieties vanquished, his eyes fluttered open with replenished resolve.

The bustling Burrow could wait. Her "something" was found.

**

* * *

**

**Title:** Third Draft  
**Notes:** This one is different from the others, and it was not used for two very very specific reasons: 1) I wrote it last, and had not refined it enough to really determine its potential; 2) The tragedy is a risk. The reason it is so tragic is because, looking closely at Rae_F's picture, the gravity of their countenances, their distance from the party- it seems to be a farewell...

* * *

Harry wasn't quite sure.

He didn't doubt Ginny- no, she was the best, hands down.

But he doubted himself.

Even now, with Voldemort vanquished, he wasn't entirely safe.

Loyal supporters hit bottom rock. Thieves and corrupted officials had bargained on Voldemort had lost; if not for Harry Potter, they would've had it made. Some went insane; like Bellatrix Lestrange, they sought their master's killer. The Longbottom's fate would seem generous.

His friends waved it off as a silly concern. You-Know-Who was dead by his hand; that's enough fear to ward off any scoundrels. But Harry was most famous for his love; Death Eaters know how to manipulate _that_.

So the newlyweds conferred.

Harry put a finger to her protesting lips. "I know you're a strong, independent woman, but… I don't want to see you hurt."

Instead, she surprised him. "You died for them to not hurt me. How could they?""

He left anyway.

* * *

**Final A/N**: Hoped you enjoyed that, then. I'll get back to writing the normal prompts Monday...


	31. Above the Influence

**Title:** Above the Influence  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Want  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** Written in the first-person perspective of Fleur Delacour, some time in Half Blood Prince. Also, I doubt that Ron has professed "I love you," but she is recognizing that he, too, is falsely smitten.

William Weasley _loves_ me.

He does not say it to me, but I believe him.

Men (even his youngest brother!) speak it all the time, so often as if it were only for sport. But their manner has been unwavering in sincerity- expressed with the ardor and gallantry that _usually_ define the sentiment as true. My veelablood bewitches them- they think they truly want _me_. I don't want their well-meant, false attraction.

I want to be loved as though I am invisible.

And now that he has given me that, the only thing left for want is his mother's approval.

* * *

**Second A/N:** And now I approach the daunting task of catching up on all of the drabble prompts that I neglected in the month of July due to hpgw_drabbles fever. I begin with the easy one, weasley_100, for there is only one prompt waiting for me... And I love getting to do new couples!


	32. Shoulda Been Mother's Day

**Title:** A Mother's Duty Complete  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Love, Innocent, Boy-Who-Lived  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** Looking back, this would have been an excellent Mother's Day drabble. Ah well; it's never too late to celebrate them.

Once upon a time, her children had been innocent as the day they were born. To three year old Ginny, marriage meant Love, and the boy-who-lived represented Good.

Two years later, marriage elicited the response of Boys are Yucky. The boy-who-lived screamed Hero.

Five years after that, marriage was Hopefully, and boy-who-lived was Ron's Best Mate.

Then- BWL was How Can I Ever Show My Face Again? And marriage was Far, _Far_ Away.

Twenty years of Ginny later, Molly sees very clearly that, for Ginny, marriage is Good, and the boy who lived is Love.

Molly's children are now mature.


	33. Chocolate Espionage

**Title:** Metallic/Yet Another Story that Centers that Mysterious, Addictive Force Known as Chocolate  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Food, Missing, Gifts  
**Rating:** PG (with reference to grown-up mischief…)  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** My tendency to describe the Potter family at night has surprisingly remained comparatively innocent. Also, _so there_ danfan74! Your new prompt has not deterred _me_! This is the same idea I had before "Gifts" came out: _**When food is missing, the well named James Sirius KNOWS.**_

James Sirius sniffed, dog-like in his quest for victuals. Oh, lost irony… Just this evening, he'd espied Dad sneaking Honeydukes past Mum.

He scowled. Why was the search taking so long? He'd checked all the usual hiding spots, even the ones Dad didn't know he knew, but the box was still missing…

Unbeknownst to little James, Ginny had been _very_ aware of the surprise chocolates- and enjoying the gift, too, until childish footsteps were heard. Conversely, James was aware of their abrupt movements.

The night was so spent: each Potter faction trying frantically to not be caught.

Oh, lost irony…

* * *

**Second A/N:** Interested in donating things for free? Ending world hunger interest you? Contact me or Gryffindor777 for details.

Also, I'm feeling rather indecisive about titling this one. There are basically four titles circulating the world right now: one that's not here which is basically the same gist as YASTCTMAFKAC. Oh, and perhaps just: OH YEAH BABY. CHOCOLATE. But that one really only exists inside my head... I wanted to make it "Chocolate: The Sequel," just like "Names" and "Peace," but then I realized that my first drabble is entitled "Suspicious Stares"- the prompt was Chocolate, see. Or perhaps I can just make it Chocolate: The Sequel. Who cares?... Ag. (Yes, that's just like Cathy's Ack, except with a hard g for the lateness of the hour.) You now have **five** options. Call it what you will. Enjoy the drabble...


	34. The Last Place You Look

**Title:** The Last Place You Look…  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Wand, Tie, Smile- ACTION! (okay, action isn't one of the prompts. But the previous four words, in that sequence, with that punctuation, was a consideration for the title)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** I declined specifying due to the wide number of job possibilities available for Harry Potter's right-hand man post-DH. If you consider JKR's gospel as canon-compliant, then Ron's setting out to be an auror, which makes a lot of sense with everything that aspires in the following scene.

As calm hands strung the tie through his collar, "Don't worry," cooed Hermione, far too amused at Ron's pre-interview distress. "You'll be _fine_."

"What if I forget something? What- what was I supposed to convey, again?"

Crossing long over short, she reiterated sternly, "Confidence. You are _Ron Bilius Weasley_. They should be begging to hire _you_."

"But…"

"Smile," she simplified, concentrating on the tie as she yanked it through the loop.

He obeyed. "Yeah, I reckon I can do this…" With a kiss and straightened tie from Hermione, he promptly departed.

To the fire, Hermione shrieked, "YOU FORGOT YOUR WAND!"

* * *

**Second A/N**: With monumental blender action, I've run out of catch-up prompts. Ah well. I'm thinking I'm going to do a super-special-mega-foxy-awesome-hot (if you know the reference, fangirlscream in a review) drabble tomorrow... and if you guess correctly at what it's going to entail, I'll hand out cookies. To you, and only you, because you win.


	35. Mashup Mystery

**Title:** A Mash-Up Masterpiec**e**  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Want (weasley_100) love, innocence, boy-who-lived, food, missing, gifts (hpgw_100) wand, tie, smile (rhr_100)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100 (20 by 5)  
**Warnings/Notes:** Five canon couples I've never had the chance to cover before, using the ten prompts that I left off for a month. Each 20 words is a drabble for one couple, a scene that uses two prompts and is complete in itself. The pronouns adopt new characters every 20 words; I arranged them so that it would almost seem like one story- but not quite. It's not actually chronological, either.

A broken man turned his wand on her, distrusting- it wasn't a promising start. But with patience, he learned to love.

When he not only swallowed Daddy's inedible concoctions, complimented the chef, and _smiled_- she was thoroughly convinced: he's the one.

He couldn't allow it: "You're young and innocent." But her passionate tarrying: "I don't care what I'm missing!" satisfied… temporarily.

She'd _wanted_ to befriend her in-law, but…: "Maybe he's not the 'boy-who-lived,' but he's the BEST GRANDSON YOU COULD-"

"Say zees 'orrible spat ends in tie? You're correct, zo' tactless all ze same." He accepts this gift of renewal.

* * *

**Second A/N:** Okay, so here's all the stuff in case it was difficult to detect:

**_Prompts in order of appearance**: wand/love, food/smile, innocent/missing, want/boy-who-lived, tie/gift

**_Settings**: Post-DH, post-DH meeting the father, very soon after HBP or during and up to DH Ch11, post-DH after the wedding (perhaps the reception?), soon after GOF or during- not very long after the Yule Ball. (with underlines to try and make it clearer.)

**_Pairings**: Asteria/Draco; Luna/Rolf; Hagrid/Olympe; Hannah/Neville; Tonks/Lupin… That's in alphabetical order, and not necessarily in the order of appearance. **_Can you tell which is which?_** (the answers shall be revealed with the next chapter… which is whenever I get a new prompt)


	36. More Than That

**Pre-A/N concerning readers of Ch 34, The Last Place You Look, before 8/16/10: **I have fixed the mistake which involves Ron apparating without a wand. Now, instead of disapparating, Ron flooed away.

**Pre-A/N concerning all readers of Ch 35, The Mystery Mashup:** The first is Asteria/Draco after the war, and how she heals him. The second is Luna/Rolf, also after the war, where Rolf is dining at her house for the first time and forced to endure Xenophilius Lovegood's notorious cooking in order to leave a good impression. Next is Remus/Nymphadora, and "temporarily" means until Tonks is pregnant, at which point Lupin freaks out and runs to Harry, who monumentally refuses him. Fourth, Neville/Hannah, Hannah defending her new husband to her only in-law, Augusta Longbottom, wanting Neville's greatness to be fully appreciated. And finally, Olympe/Hagrid, with Madam Maxime absolving (_I think absolving is my word-of-the-day_) their Yule Ball argument so that their relationship can continue. _Ah, Five more couples... And that, my friends, is what it means to represent "the canon romance."**  
**_

* * *

**Title:** More Than a Hero  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Hero  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** To all the people who hate H/G because they find it strange that a little girl's crush can be replaced by a woman's love, I dedicate this fluff. Ron and Hermione are in HBP, post-breaking up with Lavender. Ginny and Harry are post-DH, pre-epilogue.

Lounging near the fire, Ron's brow furrowed. "Hermione, don't you ever think there's something _wrong_ with Harry and Ginny?"

Understanding the unsaid "as a couple," she bent over her Charms essay, due next week. "Just because she's your baby sister doesn't mean she can't find true romance."

"Yeah, but- she spent her childhood dreaming of him as her hero!"

_-~?~-_

"My hero…" She murmured. The war over, Harry was finally hers; not the world's.

"Surely more than that, by now…" the lover pouted.

"My man?"

"That's better."

_-~?~-_

"So did most of Wizarding Britain. One _had_ to be his love."


	37. Baby Steps

**Title:** Baby Steps  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Swimming  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** It's like riding a bicycle- you never forget.

"_Swimming_?"

"Oh, Harry, the kids are so excited! Come on! It's not like you can't-" Laughter ebbed out as understanding in.

"No?" He directed his smoldering face downward. He would never be able to put his incomplete childhood behind him, would he?

"Surviving the Second Task-"

"Gillyweed."

"Sixth year, the Prefect bath-"

"I was tall, and paddled around…"

"Daddy don' know how to swim?" investigatory green eyes arrived. "I'll show him!" an unfinished grin announced. The eldest refuted, "No, _I'm _showin' him! It's different for guys 'cos _we_ wear trunks!"

On second thought, redeeming his childhood wouldn't be a problem.

**

* * *

**

**Second A/N: **I had an alternate ending for this one, in which Ginny lets her beach towel fall to the sand/floor to drape her arm reassuringly around him, saying "Don't worry; I'll teach you" and Harry thinks to himself he figured he could a) not worry, and b) learn well as he effectively ogles her muggle bathing suit.

Oh, and if you don't know how to swim- gender has nothing to do with it. ;)


	38. Wanted

**The Prompt:** An anniversary of Sirius' death. **Further Conditions: **Any anniversary, any character _except Harry_. **Word Count: **Between 100-500 words. **Rating: **G-R, please no NC-17 drabbles  
I won second place! (This was for the interim competition for genhp_ldws livejournal community)

**Title: **Wanted for Murder By Suffocation  
**Rating: **PG  
**Word Count: **500  
**A/N:** As misleading as the title is, this drabble is not about Peter Pettigrew.

Hissing _Silencio_, Mrs. Weasley shut herself in her room and let her tears fall. She didn't want to disturb Harry in his mourning, or worry Arthur, the dear. _Oh, if only I wasn't so hard on him_, she moaned internally. _He's so sweet, why do I always have to be the bossy uptight one, the one that's right, but not heeded until it's far too late…_

Ginny, Ron, Harry- all there, all with only five (four, for Ginny!) years of muddled Defensive magic against skilled, conscienceless Dark Wizards?

It took Sirius to _die_ for them to realize how abysmally-!

Hadn't she _told_ them to stay in school, to stay safe, to respect their lives? During perceived danger, the last thing they'd remember is their mother, brave, rash souls they all were. She was a Gryffindor, too; she knew how it was. Yet, first and foremost, she'd always be a mother…

Maybe she ought to stop mothering altogether! Warning Sirius, insisting he stay in Grimmauld Place, curb himself, even _grow up_, had done nothing but make him sour in his Azkaban-free days. He still encouraged the children to fan their flaming spirits, tried to resurrect the glory days, refused to listen- and then, then look what happened…

_It's all no use_, she thought, blowing her nose quietly. _If I just stopped at cooking their food and making their beds, they'd all like me better for it_.

"Mrs. Weasley?" called an unfamiliar, unfocused voice. Molly rapidly unsheathed her handkerchief and attempted to mop up the evidence. "You oughtn't mourn alone. Father tried that for awhile- it wasn't good for him at all."

"Mourn? I know I'm a horrible, selfish person, but honestly… I'm not _really_ mourning Sirius," she confessed to this strange person, angel-like with her otherworldly apparel and haloed in dirty blonde hair. "I'm just mourning… something else lost with him."

"Well, if people truly mourned the _person_, no one would fuss like this. People in death are happier than we in mourning," said the girl simply, squatting beside Molly and offering her own handkerchief. "Here, this one's imbrued with Nargle-disinfectant. Nargles muddle the mind, see," the girl added at Molly's confused hesitation, "which is simply no good when you're already upset."

"Thank you," the Weasley matriarch replied automatically, indeed feeling marginally better as she accepted the proffered gift.

"Harry Potter lost a connection to his parents, his parents all over again really, and three years after it he can properly mourn without the worries of war. What do _you_ ail from?"

"I just- I realized now, should've years ago- that- nobody wants mothers anymore. Everyone's all grown, and self-willed, and I don't have any place in the world."

"My name is Luna Lovegood, and _I_ want a mum," Luna stated, without any tone variation. "I've wanted one ever since I was twelve."

"You do?" Molly sniffled, suddenly ashamed at falling to pieces before Ginny's more pitiable peer.

"Everyone does," Luna replied, suddenly firm. "Now go downstairs. Harry needs his, too."


	39. The Makings of Royalty

**Title:** The Makings of Royalty  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Tan Lines  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** So I'm thinking… Which Weasley couple _haven't_ I done? Ron, Ginny, George, Fred, Percy, Bill, Charlie doesn't have a canon mate… So who can I do next? What is there left for me to cover? Then I recalled *singsong voice* the most famous reindeer of all…

Molly'd never felt more queenly. Wed to a jovial king, vacationing on pharaoh's terrain. And- "Oh Arthur! Look at our babies! Six princes, one princess…"

Arthur observed them before responding.

~?~

"Come on! Can't be worse than Percy!" a twin laughed, the other tickling Percy's pale chest until both crashed onto Egyptian sand.

Charlie's elder commented, "How bad can it be? You spend all day in the sun!"

"Dragon-taming does not entail full body tanning-" scowled the victim.

Impatient little Ginny yanked his shirt off for him, eliciting screams of humiliation and laughter.

~?~

"Yes, dear," Arthur assented. "Most regal indeed."


	40. Speaking From the Heart

**Title**: Untitled/Speaking from the Heart  
**Author: **Loonynamelass  
**Rating:** G  
**Prompts:** (optional- may use none, one, some, or all): Giggle Nat King Cole's Smile (lyrics here) "Nothing to me feels as good as laughing incredibly hard." ~ Steve Carell  
**Word Count: **500  
**Characters:** George Weasley, Angelina Johnson, and various wizard children  
**Notes/Warnings**: Erm... Character death (JKR's)... I now have discovered the beautiful song "Smile" by Nat King Cole. Thank you! Also, this community now allows me to branch out on any pairing I want... Yay. :)

George glanced warily at the clear shotglasses assembled in the flat he shared… _used to_ share. _Fred_ was the drinker- though he'd shared and allowed the secret. After all, the main perk of moving out was indulgence.

Not a drop was missing from _this_ bottle of Firewhiskey, having been designated for peacetime. _Well, war's over. What now?_

"We toast," Fred answered, or was it George? Impossible to tell.

Obediently, George poured, grasped it in shaking fingers, thanked Merlin he was of age, and-

It slipped and shattered. _Reparo_, all is mended- though the red liquid spread unhindered, seeking to stain. Returning the bottle to the cupboard with a bang only brought more memories, painful, Fred-ful…

"Blimey, Forge, what the hell is this?" Fred punched his shoulder playfully. "What you beating yourself up for?"

"Stop," George cried, grabbing the fist that accosted him. It took a split second to realize he struggled against himself, and both fell limp. The self-arm wrestling was so ridiculous that instead of crying as his face screwed up to, he burst into laughter, and kept at it. "_Beating myself up_"- an irresistible pun- and it felt too good to laugh, the evening after Fred's demise.

~?~

After the war's end, the store was first to reopen in Diagon Alley. Children flocked to the store for the famous founder's speech, while shyer teenagers milled about in the back, and his family's support stood in front.

Plopping down onto the spinning chair, he leaped up with an unrehearsed shriek and curse. The tension popped, giggles bursting from every corner of audience.

George lifted the pin with a piqued air before it soundlessly vanished. The audience ahhed this display, and he took it in stride, as though it'd been a pre-orchestrated performance. His eyes caught a darkly dressed adult, dark fingers deftly twisting the offending ornament.

"S'pose I'll stand," he remarked good-naturedly to general amusement, rubbing his sore bum. Some started practicing his swear. "Don't tell your parents," he added conspiratorially, "though I'd have liked to see more of them. Grown-ups oughta laugh, too. They think they're above it, but laughter is above war, too… So what's their excuse? Perhaps they think the jokes have died, or lost half o' their soul. George Weasley, the twin with no twin. Joke without a punchline… But thing is- with every peal rolling off a tongue, Fred Weasley's there. With every appreciation of irony, he approves. So why grieve? Just bring him back; bring them _all_ back!

"Because laughs, not any dark "Lord's" notions, are the makings of immortality. They last forever on your mouth. Laughter lifts sorrow, giggles heal wounds, smiles ferry beauty.

"Thus, with no further ado…" Doors swung and impatient floods rushed over magically-protected floors.

He glided over to the remaining spectator.

"The other adults missed out. I like your version of mourning."

"Well, yours makes a pretty picture nonetheless," gesturing gallantly to her black robes and bonnet.

Angelina smiled through tears. He was right; Fred was still here.


	41. Who Ya Gonna Call?

**Title:** Who Ya Gonna Call?  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Imagination  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:**  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Ginny can conceptualize muggle culture due to her Dad, but she also learned his slightly misinformed pronunciation. Also, guest-starring another couple!

The Dursleys had always discouraged imagination.

But in a strange way, Hogwarts did, too. Instead of dreaming of fairies as muggles could, Harry had to look them up in the appendix of _Fantastic Beasts_ (or query Hermione or Hagrid) for a technical description.

As customary in the Potter household, Harry voiced his epiphany to Ginny, who consulted the calendar before summoning her Patronus.

The horse, combining beauty, independence, and poise, leapt out the window.

"What're you doing?"

"I'm introducing you to Wizarding imagination. She's no Sandy Clothes, but it's been too long since we've had Luna and Rolf for dinner."


	42. Imagination Draft: Braving Brothers

This is my original attempt for the prompt "Imagination." Consider it a draft- and as with all of my drafts, this is my policy:

_If we shadows have offended_  
_Think but this, and all is mended_  
_That you have but slumber'd here_  
_While these visions did appear..._

**Title:** Strength of Brotherhood  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Imagination  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100, with a 20 word _Afterword_  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** This was my first attempt, and I couldn't even get it down into 100-word format. It just doesn't satisfy me like my second idea, but I figured I'd put it up as I did put up the drafts of the July Wedding Day Challenge... Well, what do you guys think, anyway?

Her brothers, sans Percy (but isn't Percy _always_ excepted?) liked nothing better to do then tease her to death, Ginny often thought.

But her wittier side would respond that she was being silly- after all, they'd ditch that kind of sport for quidditch (or perhaps some brilliant pranking opportunity for the twins.)

Still, the incessant "When is Dad going to have to give Harry Potter that talking to? 'If my daughter turns up preggers before she's got a ring_-_'" made her _long_ to just give up, stop dreaming, toss their ammunition away.

But stronger than any indignation was her imagination.

_(And when they finally _were _an item and they joked about her love life, she tossed him an exaggerated lascivious look… Fred and George never bugged her again after two hours exterminating the stink of Ron's vomit from their shop.)_


	43. Changing Conversation

**Title:** Changing Conversation  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Style  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** Okay, to all you dirty minds, this is still PG because it's a non-sexual look at nakedness in the context of self esteem. Being struck down is a (mildly) _bad thing_, by the way, and the aftermath of the scene is Ginny deciding on her dress by herself, and Harry trying to reevaluate his girlfriend-managing skills. Oh, and yes, Harry is smart enough to use metaphors.

"Harry, does this dress make me look fat?"

Hermione had coached him for when this day would inevitably come. Never consider the question. Just speak. "No."

"_Harry_, you didn't look! Harpies tryouts are the closest I've gotten to fulfilling my _dreams_, and you're not even _looking_ at me! Come on, be honest."

"Okay, fine-" Time to improvise. He glanced at her cursorily. "If you want to look your best, don't wear it."

"What should I wear, then, if I want to look my best?"

"Nothing," Harry answered truthfully, and was immediately struck down by the silky missile of Ginny's dress.

* * *

**A/N 09/29/2010:** I don't know if I'm super behind the times but I discovered a song just yesterday that perfectly captures this piece. Wow, yeah, I know- rather than comparing songs to great literature, I compare it to my own creation. It's an interesting phenomena...

Anyway, I got off topic. If you prefer, imagine that Harry has Bruno Mars' voice and says:

_Oh you know, you know, you know_  
_ Id never ask you to change_  
_ If perfect is what you're searching for_  
_ Then just stay the same_

_ So don't even bother asking_  
_ If you look okay_  
_ You know I say_

_ When I see your face_  
_ There's not a thing that I would change_  
_ Cause you're amazing_  
_ Just the way you are_  
_ And when you smile,_  
_ The whole world stops and stares for awhile_  
_ Cause girl you're amazing_  
_ Just the way you are_

~Just the Way You Are, Bruno Mars, single_  
_


	44. Individual Diversity

**Title:** Individual Diversity  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: _Slytherins_ and _"The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do,"_ Walter Bagshot.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 500  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** The first three episodes are one year apart. It's all chronological, with the exception of the very end, which could happen directly after the third.

~?~ 1

_Not all Slytherins are bigoted Voldemort sympathizers, despite Gryffindors' claims. Only the conspicuous ones, who probably estimated that attention would garner more power in the end._

_Great minds _don't_ think alike. _Fools_ think alike; they scarcely think at all. But with great minds or minds that are partly great, that wisdom and greatness manifests itself diversely. It was possible for a Death Eater to be very much as Slytherin as an apathetic witness._

_There are many explanations for this phenomenon which few notice, two of which are of import at this moment:_

_First-__ Personalities hardly solidify at eleven, nor at seventeen, when your colors are meant to be shed in favor of unity (though some, usually Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors, ignore this intention). Couples wedding in their _twenties_ are sometimes led to state their individual variations of the oft moaned, "Where's the person I married?"_

_Last: Your house's traits are merely those that are predominant; everything is too vast a concept for anyone to grasp._

_At the same time, understanding non-Slytherins is akin to attempting to decipher the motives of extraterrestrial lifeforms._

Asteria measured her MS essay (Respond to: "Prejudice" to lead into our discussion tomorrow) one final time- _yes! Last fourth inch finished_- before rolling up the parchment and heading to bed.

~?~ 2

Draco sighed at the mirror, rubbing the bags under his eyes in an attempt to make them _go away_. He was sleeping badly- the taunts of the crowd, the humiliation… all the nightmarish sequences from life slipped into his usually nonexistent dreams. If he were a better Slytherin, he wouldn't always lose to Potter.

Oh, he was some kind of Slytherin- he had ambition. It drove him, like his namesake the dragon, rearing hot in his chest. _Potter will regret the day he made an enemy of Draco Malfoy_. _Severus Snape will be nothing when I'm through. I'll show them all what I can be!_

But when brought to the test, he conspicuously lacked the cunning to achieve his ends. The rest were always one step ahead.

He had what it took, though. He knew it. He'd crack the case today- it'd all be over, he'd be Voldemort's second in command, the new order would respect him and the old that had so scorned him would openly fear.

~?~ 3

In Asteria's seventh year, she became aware that Malfoy liked her. He made an unusual amount of visits, considering that the only 'underclassman' he bothered to remember or associate with was her. This revelation disturbed but intrigued her; psychology had always been her hobby.

_He's no alien; he must have reasons…_

St. Mungo's and Wizengamot had given up psychoanalysis- but, then, that was the prejudice all over again.

~?~ 4

"Definitely your son- look at that triangle mug!"

"All babies have cone heads," Draco scowled.

~?~ 5

Draco nodded respectfully at his once archenemy; Asteria squeezed his hand. Scorpius ignored them- it's _his _turn for grow wings.

~?~ 6

Another fight's conclusion- "This can't work; we've _nothing_ in common!"

"We're Slytherins," she answered ponderously, "That's enough."

* * *

**A/N:** Before I added this author's note, the "Fanfiction word count" (which is usually inaccurate due to their counting of html stuff) was 666... I just find it ironic that my drabble on Slytherins was counted as such... Well, yeah. You get the idea. I'm not superstitious, but coincidences can be amazing.

See _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ for more amazing coincidences. :)


	45. Inverted Rainbows

**Title:** Inverted Rainbows  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: "Weekends are a bit like rainbows; they look good from a distance but disappear when you get up close to them." ~John Shirley  
**Word Count:**** 500**  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** None  
**Notes:** The title "Inverted Rainbows" means more than one thing. A meaning that I meant to include but was somehow unable to was "white light." If you can find an opening for such a reference, please say so… or maybe the white light is just present in Luna's all-encompassing wisdom…

"Can't wait for the weekend," sighed Dreck, stretching out leisurely with an eye on the clock. "Any plans, Scamander?"

"My plan of now is observing the mating behaviors of this rare variety of sentient flora."

"Where was your childhood that Fridays don't fill you with restless freedom?"

Scamander didn't answer. He only thought forlornly of leaving work... The first thing anyone asked him was about his grandfather, and a weekend is two days away from being asked about himself instead.

…A lie, actually. It wasn't "only" that…

"I'll miss my _darling_ coworkers," he said dryly, leaning into the spirals of data. That result was odd. Generally, female plants were considered instigators of choice- the male specimen's aesthetics and scent attracted females, not the other way around.

"I'm touched…" At the silence that followed, Scamander hoped that he'd finally have total concentration- the weekend left only a day to study this phenomenon before the compound closed! Unfortunately, Dreck did not have the same work ethic. "Or will you just miss a certain _Lovegood_?" Waggling his eyebrows so much would dry out his scalp from prolonged stretching.

"You're an annoying Nargle, come to dash my hopes of discovery." He ran his eyes quickly over the data, over and over. The same conclusion arose in his mind, but there had to be another explanation that built off previous research…

"Nargles? You've even learnt her mad beliefs…" Merlin, would Dreck's maturity level further reveal itself by singing "_sittin' in a tree! Kay eye ess ess…_"?

"Her 'mad beliefs' have led to astounding discoveries in our field." Soon, he'd make his, too, and be good enough for Newt and for her…

"Sorry, didn't mean to slight your girlfriend."

A new voice dreamily entered the cramped workspace: "Girlfriend would imply mutual consent. And he hasn't even _asked_, so that'd be a current impossibility."

He fought to keep down his flush as Lovegood and Dreck continued discussing the matter in impartial terms. "Impossibility?"

"_Current_ impossibility because it is not true, and therefore actions required to prove such a statement have not been sufficiently executed. It implies future possibility, but time of failure varies, dependent on whether the motion's development is even incipient."

"Why failure?"

"Failure is inevitable, and the subject usually cracks before performance."

Dreck burst into laughter, theatrically wiped his eyes, and cried, "Ask her before I do!"

Scamander responded stiffly, "I seem to be approaching failure myself. This data doesn't correlate with the current scope of understanding …" He explained his predicament; all thoughts of the previous conversation ostensibly effaced.

"Well, this inverted rainbow-"

"Parabola?"

"…indicates that due to unique intelligence, both genders have decisive roles in mate selection."

But that's unheard of… "That's perfect," he breathed, and turned his face to hers, a few inches away. "Say, do you… have any plans this weekend?"

"Currently? I see the start of some…" She smiled and left.

"Is that an _inverted rainbow_ on your face?"

As he should have long ago: "Shut up."

Miraculously, Dreck conceded.


	46. Testimony: Platform A

**Title:** Testimony  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Platform 9 ¾, must include Albus Severus, James Sirius, and/or Lily Luna. (Harry and Ginny must be main characters)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 433 (100-499)  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:**** Take One on the prompt. **

If the Dursleys were proper parents, they'd buy Harry a calendar. Of course, they weren't, so Harry had to scavenge around for the date or, worse, count the days on the wall as though he was stranded on an uninhabited island. (Such an analogy wasn't far off, but avoiding that truth was how he'd survived such a childhood.)

Finally, he got hold of the date… Only a few days until September! he enthused. Only a few days until freedom!

~?~

If the wizarding world adults had any brains, they'd schedule school to begin at 11:00 AM every day. After all, to anyone who endeavored to look a little into Healing magic, it was clear that teenagers _cannot wake up early_. It's the circadian clock imbalance- it's been studied, proven- heck, even _muggles_ knew about it!

Well, when James was a healer, he would change all of that. And to become a healer, he had to trudge through a few more years of the system… With that, he rolled out of bed. September. Yi-ppee. One more day toward the ultimate goal of reforming the wizarding world to make sense.

~?~

Ginny let out a squeal that momentarily made Arthur recall a dream in which their chickens had been transfigured into swine… Arthur groaned, "What is _wrong_ with you that you're _happy_ to be awakening at this ungodly hour?"

Ginny took no offense, as there was an unspoken rule in the Weasley household that anything Dad said with his eyes closed was null and void (the twins had taken some liberties with the act of blinking, but otherwise it worked pretty well). "I'm going to Hogwarts today, Dad! I don't have to wait at home alone; I can go to school and I can learn _magic_ to do with my wand! The others won't know what hit them."

~?~

Despite these thrilling testimonies, Albus was adamant.

"Just because you three are insane and look _forward_ to school doesn't mean I can't dread the passing of eternal summer like everyone else my age," he stated mournfully.

"He's not excited to go to Hogwarts?" Lily squeaked. "I wanna go instead! Let _me_ go, mommy! I _like_ Hogwarts!"

"Albus! You don't like Hogwarts?" James seemed scandalized. "You're destined for Slytherin for sure!"

Harry and Ginny exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. Whether it was the preposterousness of skipping Hogwarts, the succinct description of Slytherin that they'd have to mend sometime soon, or simple affection, Albus, embarrassed by his parents' mirth, was spurred to continue into Uncle Ron's car without further delay.

After all, how could anyone dislike Hogwarts?


	47. Stages: Platform B

**Title:** Stages  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Platform 9 ¾, must include Albus Severus, James Sirius, and/or Lily Luna. (Harry and Ginny must be main characters)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 395 (100-499)  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:**** Take Two on the prompt. I forgot entirely that I wrote the previous one, racked my brains for a response, and wrote this.**

The summer passed oddly.

As always, the future is long and the past is short, mused Harry as he glanced past the slightly crinkled corner of his wife's right eye, a lock of faded red-tinged hair weakly blowing near it.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"I feel like there's something I need to do," Harry confesses, as bemused as she.

Ginny frowned, and so did her forehead as she went over her mental schedule. "We dropped Lily off at her flat, she flooed in a billion times to pick up her chicanery yesterday… James and Delilah's wedding is on the twenty-seventh and the arrangements have already been set… Did you comb your hair today?"

"_Yes, I did_… Are you sure we don't need to… go somewhere?"

"If you distrust my old memory so much, look up the calendar yourself," she replied shortly, not looking up from her needlework. The sheets in question only proved her point- today was as unremarkable as the next, just a lie-in Sunday, why get worked up over it? "Harry, should I run you to the Healers?" she said slowly, dreading the answer. If this was really mental deterioration…

"No, no, nothing like that…" Harry scratched his head for a moment, mussing up his dark hair even further. "Aha! Three quarters!"

"Seventy-five percent?"

"The Platform…"

"Is that what you've been on about? Honey, we're not in school anymore; we don't need to go."

"It's just so different now. I went for six years, took a very conscious year off against Voldemort, a few years more for remedial learning and then to take Teddy because Andromeda had back trouble… then James, Albus, Lily…"

Ginny felt herself get riled up over his nostalgia. She didn't marry him to be an angsting fifteen year old, nor a morose fifty year old. "Oh, snap out of it. Is it _change_ you're worried about? After eleven years in a cupboard, then six years of school and war, a year of hunting, freedom from Voldemort and the Dursley's clutches, four years of marriage, twenty years of parenthood…"

"Okay, touché then," assented he, appreciating her concern, however it was manifested, whether scolding or snogging.

"If you want," she said, softening her tone. "We could go somewhere else today…? Where do you belong, if not at Platform ¾?"

Harry considered her request for a long, comfortable silence. "Right here."

"I thought so."


	48. Not Tea Leaves

**Title:** Not Tea Leaves, But They'll Do  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Fall, Eyes, and to a lesser extent, Comfort and Healer. They're all there, though.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 150  
**Warnings:** I'M SORRY! But I could not bring myself to cut it down anymore. The symbols, the symbols! Consider as thus- as four prompts, it should really have taken 400 words... And if it must must must be deleted *tears well up in huge, naturally lashed and brown South-Asian eyes* then it must must must and I will not defy that. _(Note: The pout worked. It was not deleted from the hpgw100 community)_  
**Notes:** That said and done, enjoy! :)

Clearly a crazy-cat lady, eyes passed over Sybil, the International Statute of Secrecy safe. Her comfort assured by Harry Potter's tale (two vital predictions!), she could relax in parks and seek gypsies.

Two leaves alienated themselves … Practiced eyes watched their fall. A bright red had reached maturity to fall; the emerald followed in enrapture. Reaching the ground, the green lay in the red folds, content and still.

Crossing could symbolize healing, mused Trelawney. In some circles, the green leaf's early descent could signify the great stresses of life condensed in a short green youth.

Then she recalled a common symbol of love, unity. She racked her brains to recall it, having retreated from society long ago, a stranger to universal expression. Two perimeters, meeting twice- petering out into two lines at a point, and at the height of curvature a deep indentation…

Aha! She landed upon the name.

Heart.


	49. Quite a Scare

**Title:** Quite a Scare  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: Halloween  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 250(1000 max) Also, just for fun, and for the sake of reading a lot of Shakespeare recently, this is a set of 18 couplets. I was going to do it in blank verse, but I couldn't help rhyming... It's just so pretty that way! Also, a few puns, in the spirit of Shakespeare. Yeah. And the two random inserted lines are also written that way because I felt like it.  
**Warnings:** Not as creative or fun as I usually do. This is set during the first year that Lily goes to Hogwarts. OMG 250 WORDS EXACTLY! I wasn't even trying!

Young Mr. Harry Potter and his wife

Were having early nights and little strife.

Their children having left for boarding school,

So the first time in memory, peace ruled.

One quiet eve a quite unwelcome knock

Resounded through the residence- their shock

Was quickly overcome by great concern.

Their address was a secret none could learn!

Except, of course, their family and friends-

But still they worried- would fame have no end?

Hermione or Neville- could not be,

For on code words the couples had agreed.

Gin ventured first- her face was not as known

So their identity would not be blown.

To her extreme surprise those that she meets

With monstrous apparel, yell "TRICK OR TREAT!"

She squealed in fright and quickly grabbed her wand-

Yet no defense was made- with laughs respond!

For fortune's sake, arrive did Harry then.

Who, quicker on the uptake, was godsend.

"The trick," cried he and waved his wand a bit

Surprised but satisfied left the cute crits.

Hysterically his wife asked "WHAT WERE THEY?

Death Eaters in miniature? Today?"

"No, no," he soothed, amused despite himself.

"Just muggles dressed as goblins, ghosts, and elves.

Instead of at a Hallow's Ev'ning fete

As we've done for all years up to date,

We're present for the muggle's tradition.

There's nothing sinister- Just simple fun."

"Back to our loving ev'ning, then?" She asked.

"Too many bad mem'ries to do with masks."

"Nope, tonight we're waiting by the door.

As for the memories, we'll make some more."

-~?~-

In silence Ginny pauses for her thought:

_Leave behind the sadness that we fought?_

"But careful, dear, we don't want to be caught;

More Secrecy Statute arrests need not."


	50. Delayed Response

**Title:** Delayed Response  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt**: "Forever is a long long time and time has a way of changing things." ~ The Fox and the Hound  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 499  
**Warnings:** Not my best, but it's been a while since I've written drabbles and I need to get back into the loop…  
**Notes:** Begins May 2, 1978, ends May 2, 1998. Also, this is for you, "Jokegirl"!

Three days ago, Lily had been humming.

Now, the "respondez s'il vous plait" owls were coming in for their wedding, and she was staring at a Howler's burnt remains.

"Honey?" James said uncertainly as he walked through the door. "…Are you all right?"

The tears started rolling down her cheeks and in a flash he was there, like magic, his shirt dampening under her cheek. Then she remembered, muggleborn-slowly, that it _was _magic, and the flow thickened. James' hand ran through her hair and it wasn't right that this man could hurt with the same hand he healed…

"Why'd you have to bully him?" She whispered, her words muffled and strange. "Humiliate him? Why were you cruel?"

He didn't answer, instead asking, "Lily, are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm mad because… I can't justify…" Eloquent, studious Lily Evans struggled… "…this."

"What?" He was in his nicest mood; sweet, understanding, honest… It contrasted so with her dilemma that she cried harder as she gestured to the invitations… _You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of James Potter and_ … "Do you want to postpone the wedding? Do you want to break it off?" He forced the words out, though at the last his voice broke to match.

"Nonononononono…" she said, trying to calm herself. James loved her because she was strong and smart and now she was being weak and stupid and was she losing _everything _then? "I want to know why I don't want to."

"Hm… You still want to know why James Potter was a bastard to Severus Snape?" A sobbed assent. "He was… a coward. And he was loyal. He was book-smart and word-witty and well-endowed, but he wasn't streetwise smart and he was easily blinded."

"Would _you_ do the same thing?"

"To anyone else who's done what that Death Eater's done? Yeah, I would. Would I do it for fun? Would I do it to an innocent kid? I reckon not… anymore. Would I draw it out, in front of a crowd? No; I've outgrown that, and I'm sorry for not being born mature…" He said the last confession not intensely nor sarcastically, but slightly apathetically, matter-of-fact-like.

-~?~-

_Dear Sev,_

_It's been long since we last spoke; I'd hoped for a better reception to that invitation than what…. Please come. No need to RSVP- a place will be set for you. Dress semiformal, if you want. If you don't care, you don't have to. Just come, Sev. Please. I miss seeing you._

_It's been too long._

_Love,_

_Lily… and James_

_P.S.: Things have changed since school. We're all adults, now. Trust me, and come for that._

-~?~-

"Why wouldn't he come?"

"He hasn't changed yet. Come on, if _he_ hasn't grown up and let his bitterness die yet then there's no use being somber about it!" Alice's sweet face, bright with the excitement and romance of weddings, convinced Lily.

-~?~-

Twenty years later, Severus released his final burdens, and they all could rest in peace.


	51. Cultural Gap

**Title:** Cultural Gap  
**Author:** Loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Pumpkin, Goblins, Trick  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None I know of. Er… it's in present tense? Oh yeah, and not really romantic, I'm afraid.  
**Notes:** I had this idea the moment "pumpkin" came out, but I could not for the life of me figure out _how_ to write it. Well, here it is, a continuation of "_Door of Opportunity_" if y'all recall that far back… Imagine: the scene sets, Ginny and Mrs. Dursley straining for pleasantness as their men stoically regard each other...

Another awkward silence. Supping with the Potters was bound to be difficult, but Dudley hasn't foreseen this. _At least there's alcohol…_

-~?~-

Ginny's shriek is of surprise, but he, Petunia's progeny, interprets differently, turning purple with shame to match her dripping dress.

"I'm…" Dudley, rather than the florid apologies expected, burst: "Goblins and fairies I'll accept, but _what did you do to this wine?_"

~-?-~

A quick Scourgify ("You _must_ teach me that!" marvels his wife) and cultural explanation does away with the damage.

~-?~-

"Thank you! Dinner was a real treat!"

"More a trick," Dudley smiles, and Harry finally loosens into laughter.

* * *

**A/N/Afterthought:** Can we pretend that magical pumpkin juice is purple and not orange? Orange is so boring anyway. :P And isn't it cute this think that Dudley's inherited his dad's awful complexion? And that the structure of the ornate goblets wizards are so fond of shadow the drink's hue.


	52. Surprisingly Successful

**Title:** Surprisingly Successful  
**Author:** Loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Giant Squid, Forget (also works for the prompt "Anniversary" but for the word count)  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** Still PG as always...  
**Notes:** Couldn't think of anything with Giant Squid until I got the "forget." And if you think this is implausible, consider this: IT'S MAGIC! Timeline: after marriage, before kids.

"You're sure you haven't forgotten without the Voldy-scrap?" Ginny asked anxiously as their feet fell into place, strolling on Hogwarts grounds after years.

"I remembered our anniversary; I didn't forget this… We're here." They gazed at the imperturbable surface until a long tentacle broke its sheen. "Time to disregard everything Hagrid ever taught about anatomy: _Shh'lk'k'sssss'sp_."

Harry, half his life lived without knowing, and Ginny, half her life lived in anticipation, still found magic magical. "_Humans in love are adorable!_" The shocked couple dropped into the lake.

Thank Merlin for summer recess; water, and anniversaries, have strange effects on clothing.


	53. Mother's Instinct

**Title:** Mother's Instinct  
**Author:** loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Scarf  
**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Notes:** After Percy returned that jumper back in Christmas '96, he had _better_ make it up to Molly! This is actually my first 100-word success in a while… I'm coming back, baby!

"You're _sure_ you can't help?" Percy wheedled, staring forlornly at the knotted mass of yarn.

"It _has_ to come from you."

"Fine, but it'll have to be a scarf."

~?~

Christmas was one of the few times Molly could treat her children. In turn, they seldom recalled that their mother might also want a Santa.

Upon receiving Percy's attempt from Audrey (Percy was working), she burst into affected tears. Wiping her eye on its corner, she cried, "Oh, this is so sweet. Thank you!"

Audrey was about to correct her, "scarf, not handkerchief," but reconsidered: _eh, it serves better this way._

_

* * *

_

**A/N2:** No one reviews anymore... But apparently they do read? O.O


	54. Catalyzing Reasons

**Author: **loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** (Tea &) Scones for lazysundaydrab's Guy Fawkes Fest.  
**Characters: **Rubeus Hagrid, Olympe Maxime  
**Rating:** PG as always  
**Word Count:** 340  
**Notes**: If I were truly doing this in character, I might put Maxime's thoughts in French; but alas, I know next-to-nothing of French, and my French friend is away at the moment.

Madame Maxime was not a woman to be rushed. She was very much in control of her life, her speed, her preferences, and no one dared ever challenge her half-giantess independence.

"_Rubeus, inviting me to 'eez 'ouse?_" She marveled as they, arm-in-arm, approached the gamekeeper hut. _"'Ow forward! 'Ow intriguing!"_

As he settled her with a whiskery kiss into a chair around his large wooden table, his chatter was pleasant, sweet, and adorable to Olympe's ears, as always. "I know it's not much, compared to what yer use' teh."

"Nonsense! Eet eez perfect for just us two," she purred, though already their sizes filled the house. She could discard any thought of their dingy surroundings when her dashing _amour_ was there.

His eyes crinkled with joy, and he took her coat, hung it by a suspiciously out of place coat stand, and went around to the kitchen to bustle about some tea. Olympe waited, content in admiring every detail of Hagrid that she could glean by the clutter.

She received the tea and scones politely, and sipped first. Finding this agreeable enough, she endeavored to take a dainty nibble of the scone- to find it more of a stone than edible.

All her refined French taste buds rallying in screaming protest, she could take it no longer. Tiny-ness, inexpensiveness, all well and good, but cooking can never be made allowances for! This was an emergency. Her _amour_, eating this- oh! he could get ill!- unlikely, but… this luxury was just one he mustn't go without, not while she had one last breath in her body!

"Rubeus 'Agrid. We _must_ be wed." His thrilled expression, and his rush of affection, was all the _Qui! _Olympe Maxime needed.

After their premarital celebration, the bewildered man, only able to attribute this occurrence to her euphoria at the war's end, sputtered, "When?"

"Az soon az we can!"

The rush wasn't as deplorable, instinctive, or ill-advised as it may appear. The pair was seventy-and-some years old each… and, after all, she did _love_ the man.


	55. Reasons: The Sequel

**Title:** The Reason II  
**Author/Rating:** combined because their self-explanatory; Loonynamelass/PG  
**Word Count: **328  
**Prompt: **Quidditch  
**Warnings:** This one is largely internal. Read at your own risk. Not necessarily connected to the other Cormac McLaggen drabble. Also, it has being Confunded from a first person point of view! How exciting, right?  
**Notes:** I like this one because of the last line. I never thought about that event like that before (I'm using demonstrative pronouns because you've yet to read it). Oh, and finally, in reference to the first line- _anyone else forever wondered how Harry could have somehow never encountered a person in his own house with that large an ego_?

Gryffindor is compact- about ten kids per year, seventy altogether- and yet it is seldom that students communicate outside their year, close family, and clubs.

Harry Potter was isolated as any in this respect. No family to speak of, sans the Weasley clan, and the only campus organizations he endeavored to participate in were the Quidditch team, 1991 to present, Dueling Club, 1992, and his famously led Dumbledore's Army, 1995 to 1996. That had to be it, thought Cormac to himself. Otherwise, there was _no way_ he could have missed the bird hanging by Potter's side.

Cormac didn't care for politics or history. His family was safe- purebloods, all, and moving to Switzerland until the whole deal was straightened out- and finances secure. What Cormac _did_ care about was _Quidditch_. His life was structured around it: His presence on the Gryffindor team would culminate in Captain Potter handing him the Quidditch House Cup. He would have a respectably sized family, with a loyal and moderately beautiful and witty wife, without any scandals to sully his name. Finally, he would retire, he immortalized in the annals of sports fame and swimming in galleons.

The odds were on his side. Handsome, buff, confident, and proficient in Keeping, achieving his ambitious goals would be no problem.

The odds were against him. Oliver Wood was the only keeper whose skill could surpass Cormac's (and only just, he added). His Gryffindor bravery (and lack of Ravenclaw cleverness) resulted in an inconvenient Doxy poisoning during the tryouts afterward. Finally, the girls in his year (the Gryffindor ones- Merlin forbid any other unworthy house!), through thorough testing, did not meet his expectations for a Quidditch wife, being rude, and unfaithful. He adapted for these extenuating circumstances: He'd try out for a different international team than Wood did, make it in seventh year, and cast his eye toward the lower years for an acceptable girlfriend.

Then it landed on Hermione Granger, and he missed the quaffle.


	56. Reaching an Honorable Understanding

**Title:** Reaching an Honorable Understanding  
**Author/Rating:** combined because their self-explanatory; Loonynamelass/PG  
**Word Count: **368  
**Prompt: **Quidditch  
**Warnings:** Also features Cormac McLaggen...  
**Notes:** Originally a continuation of the previous drabble; then I just snipped it off, as there was no reason for it to be connected. Like cytokinesis!

Cormac couldn't comprehend it. How could _the_ match have ended so disastrously, when he was playing? How could the Christmas date have flunked in the same manner, without even a kiss? He was intent on her because she had shown both loyalty and no fear of being overshadowed in her adventures with Potter, and for his PR (when he was a Quidditch star) he needed a woman like that.

His shame kept him from inquiring about the first, but he did not rest at the second. But the separation of the years was such that it was only in mid-March that Hermione allowed herself to be caught. The current Keeper scowled at Cormac's request, but Hermione waved him down.

"Say, baby," with a winning smile, "it's been a while since our last date. I think we left it unfinished. Let's say I take you…"

"No, thanks."

"out on Fri- What d'you mean, no, thanks?" The smile took its time fading, but fade it did.

"Sorry, Cormac, I just don't think that we should continue…"

Going steady. She couldn't even say the words. "_Why_? Why would you prefer that skinny little, spot-spattered, red-headed kid? He's younger than you! He's nothing to my Keeper skills! He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer; he'll never be able to keep up with you intellectually; his best friend will always be bigger than him-"

"_Because_ he knows _all_ of that, and he accepts it with _honor_. Now, if you excuse me, I'd like to return to my _friends_."

Cormac could catch a quaffle; he could bat a bludger; he could snatch a snitch in any practice at his summer beach house. Yet he still had yet to ever win a professionally refereed game, or a successful relationship. It was on this sunny March day, after conversing shortly with the brightest witch since Rowena Ravenclaw, that it began to dawn upon this self-hailed sportsman the value of sportsmanship and perhaps even modesty…

Needless to say, it took more than a few heated words to penetrate his bludger-thickened skull.

Still, the Snitch is always caught, be it after three seconds or three months…

And that's the kind of thing that Cormac McLaggen _can_ understand.


	57. Power Puff

**Title:** Power + Puff  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass PG  
**Prompt: **Splinching  
**Word Count:** 318  
**Warnings&Notes: **I still feel like the "Mash-up Mystery" said their relationship best, but could not help writing them for this prompt. And I am definitely one of the slavish stalkers. (Finally: notice the title, please).

Hannah was a Hufflepuff.

Hannah was a General in Dumbledore's Army.

Prior to the war, no one would have thought it. Now, after the war, no one knows what to think.

Especially Hannah… especially about Neville Longbottom.

~?~

"Aw," she cooed to Susan, after witnessing yet another small accident of his at lunch.

"How can you find that cute?" Susan replied, unsympathetic to her friend's unfathomable plight and preoccupied with ogling that hunk of a professor, Gilderoy Lockhart.

"It's not like I _like_ him, or anything. I just appreciate how _adorable_ it all is. His round little face and his sweet bumbling…"

"Really, Hannah, you give new meaning to 'Baby.'"

~?~

By the time _he_ noticed _her_, the situation was rather different. His face was scarred and set. The baby fat had faded out, and his adorable, fruitless determination and perseverance now offered him fruits. His stunning was stunning; his inspiration was inspiring.

Hannah didn't understand. No less admirable, but irrevocably a changed enigma.

Neville did understand that Hannah was a Hufflepuff, what he once feared becoming; Neville did understand the potential that Hufflepuffs had in this army. You could be a brave or a clever death eater, but never ever a Hufflepuff one. He appointed her as a General because she was Good, and that was the important thing.

~?~

Now the war's ended, Neville has no few amount of admirers. Whether it's his fierce defiance and beheading of Nagini, or rousing the denizens of Hogwarts to hope… Fans of the likeness of the Pot-heads that so slavishly stalk our poor Chosen One and his chosen woman also fawn over Longbottom.

Neville's response to them, bumbling and modest, sealed her peace of mind.

_There_ is the man who splinches when faced with Apparition- or with Potions.

_There_ is the man who led an army through mistakes, fear, and childhood to victory.

_There_ is the man she married.

* * *

**A/NII: **This flurry of random drabbles is for the Guy Fawkes Fest at the livejournal community lazysundaydrabs. 100-500 words, the more words, the more points for your house. Support Ravenclaw, and you can join now! All drabbles must be submitted by December 5th.

**A/NIII:** If you say A/NII and thought "Knights who say Nii!" then good for you.


	58. When Quirrelmort Redefines 'Snowed In'

**Title: **Where Voldemort's Face Redefines "Snowed in"  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG_ish_ (an accidental relatively unnoticed super mild innuendo from a thirteen year old)  
**Prompt:** Snowed In  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes: **I do Angie/Twins far too much, methinks; I'm being totally unfair. What can I do, when I'm seeing half the prompts as twincentric? Also, I cut this down to 100 words because I've been feeling too unrestricted- I was actually worrying that I might lose the art of structuring conciseness. :) Finally, today was super cold where I live (at Hogwarts, o' course), so that might give you a little writer's context...

Angelina sighed at the window, pulling her sweater closer despite the room's fire. "Snowed in… Can't even warm up with Quidditch."

"Snowed _in_?" George cried, flabbergasted.

"No such thing," Fred supplemented.

"If you've doubts…"

Hoisting an imaginary bat, George assured, "We'll beat away those flakes before your hair gets wet."

"S'alright. With you two around, I'm more in danger of snowballs than flakes." At this slip, she would've blushed if not brown, but they left it.

Angelina resumed sighing at the window, which, by the addition of two rosy-cheeked, red-haired, fiery wits, was not nearly as chilling.


	59. Passion Permitted

**Title: **Permitted Passion  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** By Candle Light  
**Word Count:** 346  
**Warnings/Notes: **Symbols and allusions and Shakespeare- what is love!

"We mustn't do this any longer," pleaded Lupin, his bags and wrinkles showing even in the dim candlelight as he stood to leave.

Tonks caught him in her delicate hand, which rapidly shifted into a cloth handcuff ensnaring his wrist, soft but firm. "You always say that. Don't mean it."

He gestured limitedly to their dark surroundings. "_This_ isn't worth your isolating yourself from you family. Your mother and father love you so much, and they can take care of you so well. I don't want to be your Romeo; I don't want to be the rashness that leads to your grave."

She laughed bitterly at the idea of Lupin being a young and reckless Montague, marrying after less than twelve hours, dying after fifty. Her hair slipped into grayer hues. "Is that what you're afraid of? That I'm building you up to be my young brave knight? I might be younger than you, but that doesn't make me _young_."

"Then I'm old. It doesn't matter. It's wrong, it's dangerous…" He cupped her face in his hand, and her grasp melted away. "You are so beautiful, and so clever. Don't give your life to me."

"If I was really so precious," she whispered, "You wouldn't always try to leave."

~?~

The Hogwarts evening was dark- was it the time or Death Eaters' magic ricocheting off of the heavens? Tonks' right hand gave way to a lit candle of inexhaustible wax. She knelt off the side of the path, other fighters, friends and foes, pushing indifferently past her.

He was as young and untroubled as in the deepest recesses of her mind and heart, rendered so by either the candle or Death. It mattered not, she supposed. But here he was again, in the candle's uncompromised view; not a monster, not a pauper. Just the man she had vowed to give everything to, the man whom she fought with to love. For one more moment, her eyes- or were they camera lenses, at this point?- lingered on his untroubled face.

Then she ran to meet his attacker.


	60. Life and Lies

written 11/25/2010 (Thanksgiving in the U. S.), nearing midnight...

**Title: **The Life and Lies  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Passing Notes  
**Word Count: **500  
**Warnings:** Homosexuality is mentioned, accepted, and treated in the same manner as the previous relationships.**  
Notes: **I really wanted to mention house elf prejudice but it didn't fit with Rita's character. Also, just saw HP!

The lock clicked with _Alohamora_. Those silly legislators had demanded only evidence of Grindelwald's treachery against the state - all his letters had been supposed to be addressed to apprehended minions.

Mmm, this one was _pure_ gold. Dumbledore, in his own handwriting: "For the Greater Good." _This_ chapter wouldn't need _any_ ornamentation! Her eyes eagerly scanned the next.

* * *

Dear Gellert,

How are you progressing with the books I sent? Are my translations helpful?

Perhaps you'd like to come over, to discuss any findings?

Your companion,

Albus

_

* * *

_

_The only friend a frustrated teenager had…_ thought Rita idly, though sympathy was not this book's angle.

* * *

Dear,

I meant what I said. What did you think? You have thoughts about everything. Why didn't you speak? You did smile, of course. I'm sorry. I'm being silly.

Will I see you tomorrow?

Albus

_

* * *

_

_Hm_… She shook her head. _You've been writing love triangles too much, Rita._

* * *

Dearest Gellert,

I stand by what I said: _Love_ is the most powerful force.

I see you, now. Love lifted the blindfold it laid. Aberforth and Adriana I love. I doubt they love me anymore; and you never did.

I know this may not work. I cannot ensure that this will even reach you. Would you return, to your aunt? To your home? To the place we met and shared?

The Elder Wand is not the greatest power. You and I cannot master death. I see it now. It'd destroy you, Gellert. If love read you this message, take my love and corresponding sincerity.

Mastering death is not true triumph. Love, and you master life.

I give my love to all of magic and muggle whom you and I have endangered in our plights.

Additionally, I give my love to you.

If you continue down your dark road, I will meet you and relieve you of your sins. I loved enough to harm; now I love enough to heal.

Do not make this necessary. I will wait as long as necessary for you to respond by reform.

Albus

* * *

Rita stared at the seal she herself just tore. Wizarding Britain was far from tolerant; muggle-born prejudice had already been thrice unsheathed by war… Society was obsessed with breeding, quite frankly. To publish Dumbledore's sexual orientation… It'd ruin him by a ruined society.

She quietly folded the note, too sobered to be drunk in her journalistic power as per usual. This wasn't something she could do without her well-suppressed conscience eviscerating her. There was no disclosing this and avoiding the disaster she sensed. Any reasons she had held before _"The people deserve the truth! Newspapers' and journalists' survival is vital to giving them this information, and so I must do what I must for my survival_…" fell short. It'd be wrong, and simply so.

_I know. I will fill the book with lies; erroneous extrapolation, to keep the hens clucking and true people indifferent._

So Rita passed this note by, her emblem renewed.

For lies cannot wound as the truth can.


	61. Too Stupid

**Title: **Too Stupid  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Splinching, revisited.  
**W****ord Count: **300  
**Warning/Notes: **"Hannah Abbott became the first to receive a Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey after she burst into tears during Herbology and sobbed that she was too stupid to take exams and wanted to leave school now" _(Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Ch. 27)_... This fits the prompt better, I think. :)

"I told you, I told everyone; I'm too stupid to take exams, and I want to leave school now."

Between spoons of Calming Draught, he spoke sincerity. "You're not stupid."

"Easy for you to say."

"Hm... In Potions, I've alternated between my potions exploding and cauldron melting. People like Draco Malfoy have told me that I hadn't a knut's worth of intelligence. If I'm not too stupid to take exams, then no one is."

"You're not stupid," she hiccoughed and swallowed another spoonful.

He smiled a little. "Then how could you be?"

"I don't think you would have told me I was anything but stupid if you knew…

"What is it?"

"You've always been so loyal to Harry… I feel awful for it now, but I haven't always supported him. Ernie Macmallan convinced me that Harry was Heir in second year, and we apologized profusely, of course… Then in fourth year I wore one of Malfoy's "Support Cedric Diggory" badges- our house was finally getting some recognition, and I… Now you see how thoroughly imbecilic I am, right?"

"Yet this year you supported Harry... See? You learn, and that's what will get you through your OWLS," Neville maintained, handing her the bottle to finish by herself and starting for Gryffindor Tower, while she descended to the Hufflepuff Rooms.

~?~

Hannah stared at the flamingos, utterly bewildered by their sudden appearance.

"...That's okay," Neville responded after lengthy consideration. "After all, the world needs more pink."

~?~

"Thank goodness I turn seventeen in the summer," he sighed. "With my track record, I would splinch myself to Australia."

"Well, what a pair we are!"

~?~

As Mrs. Neville Longbottom, landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, she never forgot his original encouragement. Thus, she made it a point to never, ever let him touch the brews.


	62. Crying for Comfort

**Title:** Crying for Comfort  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Down the Rabbit Hole  
**Word Count:** 464  
**Warnings/Notes:** Michael Corner and Cho Chang were both active D. A. members who fought and (presumably) survived the Battle of Hogwarts. Michael Corner is also known for attempting to free a first-year from detention, and suffering torture for it.

I fell in love with Cedric Diggory.

He died.

It went downhill from there.

No one seemed to understand that all I wanted was some closure- time to think, time to mourn, time to heal. The first to slip away was my popularity. It was another blow to find that so many had clung on because I was pretty and vivacious, traits which melted away with Cedric's death. It seemed that only Marietta stayed; Marietta, never my favorite until now.

Then it was Quidditch. I hadn't won a game for the Ravenclaws all season; I could hardly see the snitch through tears; I used to seek against Cedric… It all culminated in the last game of the season against Gryffindor (against Ginny, not Harry, at least). Our loss was pathetic, but it was by less than 150 points…

Finally, there almost seemed to be hope that just _one_ person, the right person, would bear me and assuage Cedric's gap. Harry Potter. He could kiss away my tears, and tell me what happened when Cedric died. Surely _I_ had the right to know! On our date, he had the nerve to tell me, matter-of-factly, that he was going to see Hermione Granger right after me. I might not have been entirely reasonable; after all, of course _Harry Potter_ would have more than one girl on his string… Where was Cedric when I needed him?

Later, Harry told the world, and me, about Cedric's death and everything that happened, and I read it in the Quibbler, hidden as a Transfiguration essay in Susan's pocket (Marietta didn't dare hold it herself; Susan wouldn't deny me to read it, younger and more receptive)… I thought everything would be okay, but then Marietta comes up to me, and this time _she's_ crying, like a wicked reverse mirror on the universe, and she's telling me that Hermione Granger cursed her face and she couldn't help telling Umbridge and her parents threatened to cut her off without really knowing and she loves them and she has to go back to the Headmistress' office and testify against Harry with these stupid zits on her face… Then Harry got upset at Marietta and I defended her because at this rate she was all I had yet, all reservations aside now… And Marietta's memory's been altered and I don't know how… So I have no one.

"Shhh," he said, pulling me into his lap and stroking my hair. "It's okay. Forget Harry and Ginny and all their crazy lives. Your broomstick hadn't any damage to it; and…" Michael brushed a tear off of lashes only adorned by dark ovals, "… you're still pretty to me."

I looked at him and smiled a little. Maybe because he was upside-down, he looked a bit like Cedric.


	63. The Wait

**Title:** Forgiveness and Reciprocation  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Redemption (one week of the LSD competition left!)  
**Word Count:** 500  
**Warnings/Notes:** I didn't lie when I said "will probably eventually cover _all_ canon couples!" This includes character death, slightly described, but not graphically so.

The moment he saw her, he didn't know. It was through intelligence that he found that he was in love. Did love so function? _It should_, he reasoned.

_His_ girl was clever, willful, ambitious. It helped that her bloodline was _fantastic_- Ravenclaw her surname! Finally, the cincher: she was a _challenge_.

It aroused his Slytherin senses delightfully; he waited, coiled to strike, for the moment when he would conquer her, when she would fall in love with him and wed him and bear his children and surname.

Was she too much of a challenge? _No, inconceivable!_ It just takes the opportune moment… Her mother sent him with a message, and gave him her precious seal.

~?~

"Actually, I'd rather marry someone more suited to my value."

"I'm a bloody _Baron_, goddammit. What more could you want?"

"Some poise, perhaps. And your shoes are dusty from traipsing here."

To his ardent, reasonable request, she had the gall to only point out the dust on his shoes and his angered demeanor! As though his coat and cravat weren't in the finest of condition; as though he hadn't offered his sincerest politest forms of speech in wooing her on this Albanian forest floor; as though "traipsing here" hadn't involved an arduous journey to deliver both a message from her ailing mother and another attempt to Master her and secure a route to heirs.

So… he got upset. He killed her and forgot to give her the message. Yet she was being impudent; she didn't know her place; she acted as if she were a man, of equal rank in their medieval society.

Had he murdered something he loved or, worse, something that he had not? Either way, somehow, that made it so wrong that he had to kill himself. He even connived to induce more pain, stabbing himself numerously. The muggle method was far more satisfying and suffer-ful. His teenage emotional agony denied him passage to Death, but his soul was not too broken to return as a ghost. As one, he bore scars that caused others to flee at his sight, and chains that convinced the others away as well.

Exposed remorse, unending reminders, and self-reprimand- was not this enough for redemption? Headmaster and Headmistress Gryffindor and Hufflepuff (who shared the duty quite peaceably after the departures of Salazar and Rowena) agreed and were receptive to allowing the Bloody Baron to come back after he recounted his tale. The Fat Friar, kind to all, tolerates the Bloody Baron's rants and fits best of anyone, and the Slytherin students acclimate to his dark humor. Peeves and Nick leave him be, and all there's left for a perfect death is consent to posthumous matrimony.

The Grey Lady, present by default for the memory of her late mother (how she must hate that!), still hasn't accepted him, still had not redeemed him.

Once again, he'll wait… but with ambitions reassured.

For this time, he's not the _best_ choice for her; he is her _only_ choice.


	64. Transition to Sincerity

**Title:** Transition to Sincerity  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Heart, Treacle Tart (_egads that rhymes!)_  
**Word Count/Warning:** As the 100 word limit was reached immediately upon completion, this has not been edited. MONITI SUNT. MONEMINI. _You have been warned. Be warned._  
**Notes:** "Against" is used in the Shakespearean way: _in preparation for._

"Potter, you _do_ come over far too often for modesty," Ginny said, sarcastically coy. "Mum is cooking treacle tart all day against your binges!"

"I was starved as a child, and must spend my adult life becoming fat enough to squish Uncle Vernon with my sheer mass."

"_Eurgh_ at the mental image. If that's your motive, I think I'm going to have to ban you from the Burrow."

He fell to his knees. "But my heart is set!"

"On treacle tarts?"

"No," his tone stopped the satire, one knee rose up, and a box flashed into his hand. "On you."


	65. MuggleWizardFruit

**Title:** Mugglewizardfruit  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt: **The Kneazle that Got the Cream  
**Word Count: **403  
**Warnings/Notes:** Not my best drabble… more like a random splurge of thoughts about a character. The only romantic pairing is the Figgs, very briefly mentioned (but she _is_ a Mrs., after all, so it must have happened), though, as you guys might have guessed by chapter 65 of this drabble collection, I'm more about relationships on a whole than just smoochiness.

When the Dursleys were scouring for a place to settle down- a nice, _normal_ place, normal over nice- the present of a crazy cat lady detracted little from the pristine streets of Privet Drive.

As a crazy-half-cat-half-kneazle lady, however, which Mrs. Figg seldom calls herself because it just doesn't have the same ring to it, Mrs. Figg was not at all the peripheral neighbor they had hoped. She took a great pride in watching over Harry; he was the son muggle Mr. Figg, rest his soul, had never been able to bless her with. It was she, using her feline espionage, who sent word to Dumbledore that Harry's letters were having a hard time being answered, and she who periodically checked up on Harry to ensure that he suffered no excessive physical harm from his unsavory uncle (after all, child abuse prosecuted through Muggle courts quite exceeded any circumstances that Dumbledore could justify by blood protection). She still watched over him, distrustful of the protection that wizards from the Order of the Phoenix could provide- as long as they employed the likes of Mundungus Fletcher, she preferred her own street-smarts.

She had her cats and she had Harry to love; when he left, his friends left behind an unexpected surrogate son, number two. "Aw, I'll call you Mr. Crooked," she crooned to this half-kneazle, as becoming of the crazy cat lady. "After all, you look lonely, too."

After the war, she timidly visited Harry, bringing along Mr. Crooked and Mr. Tibbles, the fittest for such arduous travel. To her surprise, he greeted her warmly; this was their only meeting after she was able to reveal her knowledge to him. To keep up a consistent round of astonishment, Mr. Crooked leapt into Miss Granger's arms and they rejoiced at reunion. But that's only tangential.

Finally, Mrs. Figg had the satisfaction of making peace with the strange half-muggle-half-wizard predicament which had drawn her to collecting half-breeds so long ago. If anyone would be her bridge, it would have to be Harry, and the looks on those reporters' faces that they were denied presence with the celebrity whilst she, a mere Squib, was dining with him.

The only thing that could make this better, thought she as she drank in the spirit of joy that summed up an end to war, would be hunting down Mundungus Fletcher and taking care of him once and for all.


	66. A Spirited Argument

**Title:** The Christmas Spirit  
**Author&Rating: **Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Yule Ball, Eggnog, Turkey, Fairy Lights, Mistletoe, Snow, Presents, Wrapping Paper, Stockings, Sleigh, Chimney, Christmas Cards, Joy, Excitement, **Love**  
**Word Count:** 300  
**A/N:** The quintessential battle between stress and cheese.

Harry apparated home from the Ministry to find his wife extraordinarily disheveled. "You look like your mother." It wasn't the optimal observation, but it was honest; and it's not as though he expected her to be dressed for a Yule Ball.

"Thanks so much," Ginny snapped, stirring the eggnog, checking on the turkey, shaking her wrist, and returning to the eggnog. Harry panted; it had been a long day of field work and he'd hoped for relaxation and warm embraces.

"D'you…" he paused, wary of absorbing her stress but knowing it was his duty (wasn't there something to that extent in the wedding vows…?), "want help?"

"What can you do?" she said, also wary, but here only of false hope.

"I could help cook; had loads of experience at the Dursleys-"

"No, Mum's expecting a family dinner the likes of which she served, and I don't want to write out all of the recipes."

_She'll have to someday,_ Harry thought, stomach stirring at the idea of full access to Molly's genius- this time, tact pulled through and instead he suggested, "How about I put up the fairy lights and mistletoe-"

"Already did."

"Sweep the drive?"

"You're exhausted from physical exhaustion already!"

_But magic… Mustn't argue. _"Wrap presents?"

"No paper _or_ stockings, and stores are closed at this hour."

"Convince Santa to come in his sleigh and run down the chimney with some peace of mind?"

"Patronuses and owls won't reach him fast enough."

"Well, fine. I'm signing the Christmas Cards and they'll be worth twice their weight in galleons with my signature and my wrist isn't tired and I'm in a good enough mood to actually include the proper holiday joy and excitement into them and _you can't stop me._"

Faced with the force that defeated Voldemort, she didn't argue.


	67. Unnecessary Stress

This is the first draft of the previous drabble, _The Christmas Spirit_, later on the timeline and with a very different plot.

**Title:** Seasonal Stress  
**Author&Rating: **Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt Challenge: **Christmas Cards, Sleigh, Chimney, Presents, Stockings, Joy, Excitement, Wrapping Paper, Turkey, Eggnog, Yule Ball, _Mistletoe, Fairy Lights,_ Love  
**Word Count:** 300 & 282  
**A/N:** Ending 1 fits all prompts, _most_ of the moral (I wanted to mention her Molly-complex), and word count, while version 2 represents what I wanted it to end on, but didn't give as much closure (and didn't have cute kids!). Each ending had elements that I wanted to keep (_the children entering to help, Harry's kiss on the forehead_), but finding a happy medium was laborious with the word count in mind, so I scrapped this and made _The Christmas Spirit_.

Ginny ran her hand through her hair another time, as though its vividness could bring the life back to her aching hand. _Best wishes for a very happy new year! Lily, Albus, James, Ginny, and Harry Potter_. "I'd almost take an Umbridge detention to this."

"Mum! Albus and I are going sledding!"

"It's red, so it's a sleigh, not a sled!"

"Whatever, Lily. You're not even allowed to play in the snow."

"Mum! Tell him I can play outside!"

"You have a cold. We don't want you bedridden when Grandma and Grandpa visits."

"Are they comin' through the chimney like _Santa_?"

"_Just_ like Santa," she turned to kiss her littlest only to see that her boys had left without their sweaters and shoes. Lily took Ginny's sigh as her sign to leave. As her pattering faded, heavier footfalls signified Harry's return.

"_Muffliato._ Hey! Bought the presents; the kids'll need bigger stockings!" enthused her husband, face alight with the joy and excitement he reserved for the simplest magic, reminiscent of Dad's plug-passion.

* * *

"You'd better wrap them yourself, because the cards aren't done, I haven't finished the turkey or eggnog and the Ministry Yule Ball is _tomorrow_, I've yet to put up mistletoe-" By this time, she was thoroughly hysterical. "What's so special about the holidays, anyway? They're so stressful!"

"Hold on. _Finite Incatatem_. KIDS! GET DOWN HERE AND HELP YOUR MUM WITH CHRISTMAS!"

Lily rushed in, evidently huddling by the door; "I wanna do the fairy lights!" James grudgingly entered; "If I help cook, then I get the first serving." Albus took up the rear, simply shrugging snow out of his hair.

"Look," he whispered in her hair, where her hand had run. "This is family. This is love. _This_ is Christmas." That said, he hoisted her to her feet.

* * *

"You'd better wrap them yourself, because the cards aren't done, I haven't finished the turkey or eggnog and the Ministry Yule Ball is _tomorrow_, I've yet to put up the fairy lights and mistletoe-" By this time, she was thoroughly hysterical. "What's so special about the holidays, anyway? They're so stressful!"

"Shh," he said, placing a finger on her lips and gently brushing her forehead with his, reminding her bizarrely of the kiss she had given Lily. "Shhhh… I love you. I'll help you, okay?"

"Okay," she said in a tiny voice.

He kissed her on the mouth for good measure, to seal the promise. "Besides," added he, "Who needs mistletoe?"


	68. Important Decisions

**Title:** The Importance of Decisions  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Present (_mention: Joy, Love, Excitement, Wrapping Paper_)  
**Word Count:** 300  
**Notes&Warnings:** This was based off of that timeless holiday tale of haircuts and watch chains, but with a few sharp twists. And my second of these scenes, so I suppose that while all of my drabbles are canon compliant, they aren't quite consistent with each other.

It has to be exactly perfect.

Harry never agonized over gifts. After all, presents are simply symbols of the season, that medley of joy and love. If one got delightfully patterned socks or Death Eater's corpses, the knitting and killing is equally enjoyed for the time and care to deliver.

But this is _the_ Christmas. He contemplated self-transfiguration. Animagus it? Itemagus? Ensure that it'd convey the perfect sentiments… Blimey, he was going insane. Was hunting Voldemort ever so hopeless?

Money: no object. But _time_- three weeks! Measly weeks to make the decision of a _lifetime_!

~?~

Hermione and Ron both had a good idea of what was going down that Christmas, and mentally declared themselves giftcoordinators; the reindeer, if you would, for the red-head clan served well as an enormous Santa.

"Shower them on Fleur! Maternity rights!"

"Dad next- _that_ gift looks jumpy."

"George, deal your round before dining starts, please. The eggnog's too delicious for spit-takes."

Finally, down to two packages. The two could hardly contain their excitement- after all, all of this orchestration was to save the best package for last. "Ginny, go ahead and gift Harry, then," Ron urged.

Hermione's brow furrowed. Ron knew, didn't he? "Harry should go. He looks queasier." This was true in itself, despite not being her true motive.

_That's what'll be on my grave, or in my vows, whichever first: "He looked queasier,"_ thought he, carefully placing on her palm.

_Jewelry,_ thought she, _How fitting, considering_.

When the meticulous wrapping was uncovered, Harry hanging on her word, her mouth opened to whisper "_Mobilidomus._" Had he misheard in the thick silence of the room?

Then he felt the small box, knew that she too had invested her heart into this purchase, didn't bother opening it.

"Well," his voice cracked. "Which one do we return?"


	69. Give Him a Chance

**Title:** Darn it, Hermione  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Prompts:** Autumn, Celebration, Crookshanks (with a hint of chestnut from hpgw100, but that's beside the point)  
**Notes:** Dork=bad social skills, intelligence undetermined. Geek=bad social skills, high intelligence. Nerd=social skills undetermined, high intelligence. At least, that's how the words worked when I was in school. :) On timeline has to be post DH because Ron's being pretty bold.

"Ron!" Hermione glowed. Ron basked in his name's glowiness before realizing it'd been designated to her next words: "…can't wait for September!"

Uh oh. What'd he miss? "Yeah… Autumn renders the chestnut trees especially pretty."

Her rolled eyes indicated that he was unconvincing but amusing, so he tried again. "Your birthday!" He'd hit the mark: calendars, like puppies, are notorious for attracting females.

This detail tempered her disappointment. "Yeah… _and_ the school year starts!"

His rolled eyes: "What chance have I with a _nerd_-" She protested before he continued resentfully, "who likes Crookshanks more than puppies!"

Her turn for confusion.


	70. I will only truly have left

**Title:** _I will only truly __have __left this school when none here are loyal to me._  
**Author&Rating: **Loonynamelass, PG with kissing included but not detailed  
**Word Count:** 133  
**Prompt: **Fireworks  
**Notes:** These two students are whoever you want them to be. For me, they are simply a presence of the castle, two of 300 Hogwarts students, in their fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh years during Umbridge's reign as Headmistress, but you can be more specific if you'd like.

They leaned out of another deep kiss, and breathed for a moment. Her face loomed so close, her nose almost touching his, the view eclipsing anything else in darkness. Not even the fireworks, so bright and defiant and dragonish, could interrupt their silence.

"You promise to thank the twins?"

He groaned exaggeratedly. "Making out with me, and first thing you think of is other men. I see how it is."

She giggled and swatted his arm. "You're silly!" They smiled at each other briefly before enthusiastically resuming their youthful expression of love. They broke again soon enough, he disoriented by her beauty as she sighed in the wonder of it all. "Such a fine warm night. Don't you just love fireworks?"

Her eyes consumed him wholly, and he could only respond: "Which ones?"


	71. Adolescent Afterlife

_**Pre-Drabble Notes: **The following drabble was written for Challenge One of the genhp_ldws LJ community's Round Two. It recieved mod's choice for "for some beautiful writing and a really neat fleshing out of Moaning Myrtle."_

**Title: **Adolescent Afterlife  
**Rating: **PG  
**Prompt:** Conversations with a ghost, 100-500 words  
**Word Count: **500  
**Notes: **Good thing I'm anonymous, as the beginning is _almost_ embarrassingly autobiographical. On that note, I have three things to mention: 1) I actually am not sure if it works on the light-skinned, 2) Blood is _not_ drawn; the scratch is really just using your nail as a light pencil…, and 3) I don't recommend it because it's probably not good for your skin. If it does work, you need some moisturizer, the eraser of this dry-erase board.

~?~

On the toilet, fillers develop: twiddling thumbs, for the simple; ten-person theatre, for the romantic; contortions, for the geometric. And that's just two hands. Scratching dry skin into letters and doodles; braiding shirt tails; even seat-shaped puzzle books sold for the exploitation of this universal downtime.

Over years she adopted, as her philosophy: Life, a bitter box of chocolates, after death, was the search for fillers. So a teenager wanders, passing through companions and pastimes, never ready for the flush.

~?~

When she saw him, she thought she'd seen a ghost.

Ghosts made noises as they pleased, so the heavy pattering of his feet weren't anything indicative, nor were the racking gasps from his top end- those, she had experienced enough of herself.

She approached with caution and observed with interest. His features implied an aristocratic background- tainted by tears and strain, the chin, robes, and stature still distinguished themselves. Her mudbloods status was taboo, then.

She rested a translucent hand on his shoulder, and when he twisted she gave him the full benefit of fourteen years of pity. "It's okay."

"No," he gasped, "It's _not_! You don't… _can't_ understand… I have to… alone."

"You don't have to be alone," she crooned, imagining herself crying in a bathroom. "_I'm_ here."

"It's… _the_ task… I _have to_… if I tell anyone He'll-" his voice was stronger, coherent through the quaking. "No way out… _He_ told _me_… and I haven't… I _can't_ do it… He'll kill me and my mother and I shoulda stopped it, been able to do this, Father would…"

He stopped, though his body only accelerated, tall, arching over the sink where saltwater rapidly dripped off of his chin. He feared death? "It's not so bad," she said, more to herself than him. Ghostliness had the side effect of self-centeredness.

He didn't hear her.

"He can't hurt you," she continued, ran her fingers through white-grey hair which parted slightly to her touch. "You're safe with me."

~?~

He didn't give much mind to the visits not there; when there, his mind was utterly devoted to the private haven she'd created for him with her misunderstanding. From his half-sentences she thought him an innocent martyr- who'd argue with a ghost older in age, younger in spirit? In life where hierarchies dictated all, this structural absence demanded he surrender his inhibitions and fight only with himself.

~?~

There again, once again, she entreating him to open up, he obstinate as he released frustration and hopelessness into words for her to deny.

Harry barges in on the scene, and Myrtle sees the sight of him yank Draco from his precious escape back to a reality where Draco had enemies and hatred and there was no time to waste crying.

"MURDER!" she cries, with the familiar drama heightening her spirits. A pale corpse vibrantly soaked is carted away by the stiffened professor, an old friend staring after the pair in shock, who also used to have conversations with a ghost.

~?~

What shall she do next?


	72. I feel like myself

**Title:** I feel like myself  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass  
**Prompt:** Star  
**Word Count: **100  
**Notes:** I attribute the title to Switchfoot.

Harry discovered he was not alone.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny said, who sounded as unsettled as he that the sky's privacy had been compromised. "What brings you here?"

Grass, soft to his ear. "Habit, I s'pose. It was a way to escape the Dursleys and the isolation of their hate. Every star could be a friend, a mini motorcycle."

Her skin, so warm. "Same, I guess. Not the Dursleys, 'course, just sneaking out when the boys were at Hogwarts, Dad working late…"

Family slept. Two lonely children turned to each other and wished upon the twin stars of the other's eyes.


	73. Truth: The Sequel

_Still involved in the genhp_ldws round 2. This drabble's distinction is WOAH I DIDN'T GET ELIMINATED. I viewed the results post with impending doom that was apparently unwarranted, but fate has tossed me a lemon, and I'm definitely going to make some tea this weekend._

**Title:** To Fear the Truth  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass PG  
**Prompt: **Prank; Hermione's POV  
**Word Count:** Exactly 386 as required  
**Notes:** First person Hermione's an interesting experiment…

"**It's not that I **_**disapprove**_** of pranks. I just don't understand them."**

"**Something even you, Hermione Granger, the brains behind the Boy-Who-Lived, don't understand?"**

Honestly, reporters have gotten out of hand- after all the important items were done, such as straightening out the propaganda of the Fudge and Riddle Eras, honoring the spies, and squashing Rita Skeeter's ridiculous rumors, one would _think_ they'd give us a rest. All right, we helped save the world- stop pestering us before we regret it!

Instead, as though there weren't enough to report, they delve into the most tangential nuances for news.

This last reporter, she thinks she's got an edge on me: apparently I am attempting to _undermine_ my husband and his brother's wildly successful franchise. Proof? A Gryffindor alumni, four years my junior, is quoted to say I've been known to try "impeding Fred and George's progress by abusing prefect privileges in the common room, after classes."

Abuse, really! He must have been a first year whom the twins had tested on, lured now by another lucrative deal: "spilling the beans on Hermione Granger" rather than "simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs."

It's aggravating that people search so hard for flaws to fabricate. Clearly, I'm too squeaky-clean, so I have to be a skank, or a stick in the mud.

The latter conception stings the most by sounding plausible.

"_**Yes**_**. Why not? I **_**don't **_**understand. What makes planning a prank different than plotting a break-in to the Ministry under Voldemort?"** I smirk inwardly at the flinch, reminded maliciously of Rita Skeeter. **"Somehow **_**that**_** distinction escapes me, prevents me from making people laugh versus making people happy, and I simply **_**don't understand**_**."**

Rita- er, Wendy- agog at my divulging, scribbles rapidly (_not_ with a Quick Quotes Quill, to her credit), smearing ink.

"**I don't understand why they didn't try for assessments and yet managed brilliant spell-work." **Was I talking of the living or the dead? **"I don't understand how they can be so nonchalant about education and safety and yet care about people. Is it an intellectual barrier? I don't know."**

I feel emboldened, free before an acquaintance, shielded by the immunity to the press I'd built up long ago.

"**Envy, you ask? Not really; just the burden of the curious."**

Overwhelmed, she manages, **"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, that's all."**


	74. A Teacher's Post

I liked this prompt! Still in the competition. I know it's genfic and this is titled "the Canon Romance," so a) take comfort in that it is still canon, and b) think of it in the perspective that Dumbledore has, in the time between the first and last scenes, had to put down Grindelwald. With the context of his betrayed love along with every other type, perhaps it can mean more.

**

* * *

**

**Title:** A Teacher's Post  
**Rating:** PG  
**Prompt: **_"Brief is life but love is long._" _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_.  
No romance fic, no dating, no UST, no weddings or engagements - if it has to do with romantic love, it's out. We're even disallowing family fic (no loopholes!)  
**Word Count:** 497  
**Notes (optional):** The settings of each scene can hopefully be inferred; it's basically chronological, the first word in 1943 and the last in 1998.

Dumbledore calmly signed his record of defense. Yes, he opposed sending a thirteen year old to Azkaban for charges that (to Dumbledore) he had little to do with. There was little point to the documentation, at any rate. The whole affair was being rapidly hushed up, the Minister of Magic's Obliviator Squad working overtime, and undoubtedly any paper trace would burn for paranoia's sake. Dumbledore chastised himself for this disrespect; loving power too much was a flaw he knew well enough, well enough to avoid. This Minister would neither be the first nor the last to fall prey to it.

Dippet watched his Deputy Headmaster incredulously. Albus loved the students of Hogwarts and was protective of them, naturally, as was he, but to protect a murderer from prison? Finally, he attempted, "Surely, even if Hagrid received a lesser sentence than Azkaban, he should be separated from the Hogwarts population which he has harmed?"

"I have already made clear my opinion on Rubeus' guilt." Albus' head was still bent to the paragraphs he had written.

"Tom was very 'clear' with his accusation, providing a lucid memory for the Pensieve!"

"Accusation is not affirmation," he responded, but was troubled by the Headmaster's assertion nonetheless. Try as he might, he'd never shaken off that first memory of Tom. Was this bias, or was there truth? He could not see past Tom's inability to love, but how could there be anything past that?

~?~

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died." If he had corrected Tom then, perhaps it would not have escalated so far… But no, Tom couldn't have stopped.

"Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless…"

"So, when the prophecy says that I'll have 'power the Dark Lord knows not,' it just means… love?"

Dumbledore hadn't told Harry as much as he should have, but he knew he'd told him enough.

~?~

He doesn't understand why he is here; there is so little you can understand when under the delusion of omniscience.

He does recognize the pain. His head is split in three, seven, eight- his counting has no accuracy; it is only with agony he returns to this position a second time. He cannot open his eyes; his metaphysical form is useless to him, mangled, bloodless, broken, twisted, wrung.

Thus he does not see the silent Dumbledore, his first link to the wizarding world, regarding him differently for the first time.

Of course Voldemort had loved; but a different love, a destructive ferocity that did not compare with Snape for Lily, Merope for Tom Sr., or any other unrequited passion. He loved as rapists do, reaping without respect, care, or comprehension.

He loved so terribly to live: as a concept, religion, and end in itself.

It is Tom's conference, but the memory of Hogwarts is familiar enough to Dumbledore that he can leave without inquiring of their location.

For it is time to visit another, greater boy, whose comfort is far more assured.


	75. Logical Consequence

Week 4 of the genhp_ldws!

**Title:** Logical Consequence  
**Author&Rating: **Loonynamelass, PG-13 for a bleeped out expletive (what? it was alliterative!)  
**Prompt: **The weeks after the Final Battle  
Further Conditions: Three 150 word drabbles, one from Harry's PoV, Ron's PoV, and Hermione's PoV each.  
**Word Count:** 150 + 150 + 150 = 450  
**A/N(optional):** Harry, Hermione, Ron. Not sure why the perspective changes for the last one; it just happened and I'm sticking with it.

Rest.

He wakes to half a dozen unfamiliar faces. "You were out for forty hours!" one announces. "Did Voldemort do something before he fell?"

"Er…" Harry mumbles, straining memory and coming up with: Voldemort was dead and would never control him again. He's free from the greater good. "No, I came up here by myself, for myself… Sorry, is this your bed?"

"No, sir, no problem," another boy replies in a dignified tone. "Sleep in it forever, if you like. I'll find another. We're all so grateful; just wanted to make sure you're alright, see. We'll go."

Harry regards this blessing, yawning. "Yeah… a few weeks of sleep sounds nice… Thanks. I 'preciate it." It was so refreshing for gratitude to come as respect and kindness, rather than the greed, gawking, and jealousy he knew. "Protecting you was worth it," he adds, but they don't hear him.

He's already asleep.

Home.

Hermione clutches her beaded bag and stands before the house she knows belongs to the Wilkins. The layout looks similar to the last house they had chosen, and has the same simple, clean façade. Yet here they are, fifteen thousand kilometers south of where they belong.

"Honey, are you looking for something?" Her mum's voice is warm but distant, and her eyes flit uneasily across the stranger's face.

"Yes," Hermione says, wondering how to not frighten her. "Er, I'm sorry, could I-" She chokes on her request, just pulls out her wand and points.

Mrs. Wilkins-Granger drops the spade as her face floods with anguish, and suddenly the meters have been crossed and their embrace is reminiscent of those when Hermione was ten, before war and wizardry had swept over them. "How could I not know this face? How could I…"

"I'm sorry, mum."

It feels good to cry.

Funeral.

F*cking funerals.

Top priority: erecting a memorial for martyrs- not a funeral, per say, but close enough. Then, You-Know-Who's fiendfyre cremation, and individual ceremonies for the Mad-Eyes, Snapes, Tonkses, and… Fred.

Mum sets a place, cleans it up, restores it for Percy. Eggshells, as though Peeves had infiltrated, litter the Burrow's usually immaculate floors. The Weasleys are the poster family for the loyal sacrifice, unity, and bravery that ends wars, yet our insides are addled: both Fred and Voldemort die; is Death malignant or benign?

We're s'posed to fix everything. It's not fair, but nothing is with this many funerals.

Mum copes the best, with Bellatrix's blood and experience with loss. For the rest- always lucky, we'd been: Ginny, Dad, me, Bill, George...

Still lucky, I s'pose. Unlike those before Voldemort's last day, Fred and our final innocence did not die in vain.

We are learning to laugh again.


	76. Watching the Clock

_Week 6 of the genhp_ldws, and attentive readers may have noticed the neglecting of round 5. I used my "skip" last time, so that's all it was. _

_Now, THIS drabble received **mod's choice **for because "We thought it was very clever to tie the Weasley clock to Molly's love for her family and how ultimately it showed draining her strength. It was very emotional and touching."_

**Title:** Watching the Clock  
**Author & Rating:** PG  
**Prompt:** Choose one of the following POV/settings: 1) Arthur/Ministry 2) Molly/Burrow. Choose one of the following moods: 1) Gratitude 2) Defiance  
**Word Count:** 489 (350-500)  
**Notes:** I was probably inspired in part by the (much better, in my opinion) drabble of miramiraficfic's, Lost Time, though I didn't consciously mimic it. I had read it recently and I think it opened up my mind to the wonders of that device... Anyway, I was very surprised when I found that I had received mod's choice, because I wrote this one in a hurry. What do you guys think?

Molly was at the Burrow when the clock shifted. She always kept her prized dowry in the corner of her eye when alone, and, indeed, when the longest hand made its journey up, she was the first alerted of catastrophe. And then Harry saw it, of course, and Fawkes was at her side in a brilliant rush of flame.

And then she _knew_. Arthur was in Mortal Peril for his brazen defiance of the corrupt world, for his Order duties and she tried to summon her stores of rage, which never failed her toward her loved ones… but they flickered and died next to the vibrant plumage of Fawkes, and she could only think: _Thank Merlin that we've chosen the side that cares about its martyrs_…

For the first time since Bill had fallen into their lives, Molly the mother put her husband first, snatched her coat, locked the door, and glanced again at the clock as the rest of the family slid into place beside their father.

~?~

Finally, after the sleepless stretches spent between St. Mungo's and Grimmauld Place, she could return home, with her husband back. Fortunately, after the Ministry attack, Arthur was considered done with _those _shifts.

Molly was in the center of her cooking operation- movement on all sides, while her wand spun in her hand, when she noticed the clock started to twitch. Two at a time, from School it jumped to Quidditch, and then changed its mind to Travelling. She checked her watch for good measure- it was class time, first week of the summer term…

It was altogether unsurprising that the twins, once again, had done what they had always done: defied expectations. And so, she decided, letting the knife fall on the carrots more roughly than strictly necessary, they should be unsurprised at their _admonishment_ for dismissing the import of education.

Molly was pleased to know that rage did not fail her this time around, though it was still laced with pride for twin marvels that she could surely take a little responsibility for.

~?~

"I have spent _twenty-eight years_ with the responsibility for more than my own life."

Arthur raised an arm to her back and pulled her to him; her tendency for weeping was as prominent as for scolding, and for the same reasons, but the former divulged itself primarily to only him. "If this means so much to you, are you sure you want to let it go?"

"I have to," she pleaded, for him to convince her of her own rightness. "It's useless and depressing, stagnant and trapped… I don't need that." She had Percy, she had grandchildren now, she _had_ to get past that solitary mass of hands… that hand…

Still holding her close, he reached out a hand and closed the box for her, the dusty cardboard finally eclipsing the clean face with the unified black stripe. "It's okay, Mollywobbles. It knows you're grateful."


	77. Relinqui Duus

_Week 7 of the genhp_ldws drabbles:_

**Title: **Two to Go, _Reliqui Duo_  
**Author/Rating:** Loonynamelass/PG  
**Prompt: **"Four Elements". Your drabble should be inspired by air, fire, earth and water.  
**Word Count: **444 (444 required)  
**Notes:** **"**These violent delights have violent ends/ And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,/ Which, as they kiss, consume" (2.6.9-11). The Nimbus Racing Broom Company formed in 1967.

The wind pummeled his ears as he streaked toward the earth, his chest compressing and acceleration building in the twigs of his new _Nimbus 1000_. The stolen snitch could only gambol as Prongs pranced around, sliding across the mud in unnecessary flips and flurries and taking care for his hair to be thoroughly mussed. Wormtail, the one-man paparazzi, obediently broke into applause at his every twist- which, with Prongs' extravagance, was rather often.

Eventually, Prongs risked a glance at the lake before flopping down onto the rain-soaked patches of grass. Not that it made a difference, with the level of sweat and muck accumulated in his grand exertion. Allowing himself to pant heavily (Lily had left the lakeside long ago), he remarked, "You never notice how precious air is 'til you have none."

Wormtail made some comment on how Prongs contained such wisdom and how he wished he could be half as smart, but it was of no consequence. James stuffed his broomstick roughly into Wormtail's ready arms without a glance and ambled over to Padfoot and me, whom he had spotted a little ways off.

"Hey, Padfoot!" A filthy arm had wound its way over the handsome youth's shoulder and was violently shrugged off with bark-like laughter.

"Ah, my favorite mess, you are. What have _you_ been up to?"

Beckoning with his chin to Wormtail's load, he answered, "One guess. And you've been charming the ladies as usual, I s'pose?"

"Yeah, Moony here found me this muggle camera somehow- how _did_ you 'procure' it, anyway?"

"Chatted up Evans- Prongs, if you had a mirror for that face!"

He scowled: "Wouldn't need one, if you ever remembered to put in a good word during those library sessions of yours."

"Or if you'd man up and make your own advances," advised Sirius.

"Oh, easy for you to say; girls _love_ you,'" deflected James; Sirius' ego, though not as distinctive as James', acknowledged its owner's inherited good looks.

"Better believe it," Sirius said. "I'm on _fire_ today- got nineteen muggleborn girls in whatdoyoucall'em 'bike-knees' –knickers muggles wear to swim!"

I smiled at the mispronunciation of the two years gone son of purebloods, and found myself in the Tonks' residence, kneeling before my private pensieve as shades grew from the trees. The memory ended there: I had been knocked out by James' signature errant snitch… And now they were all knocked out, eradicated, and I was left behind, the stream that could erode the earth and extinguish the fire and still survive. Water had been before the dinosaurs and stayed after the world had ended. I inhaled slowly, the precious invisible oxygen, and amended: so had air.

**

* * *

**

**Note Secondus: If you had trouble...** Hint: James is **earth**. Now go reread it and see if that makes sense.

**

* * *

**

**Note Tertius: If you hate symbolism, the "answers":**

James is earth. In the drabble, it was mud, his earthy sportiness, and being outlasted by water and air (Peter). Unmentioned, he stood his ground against Voldemort.

Peter is air. Thoughout the drabble, he is ignored and unappreciated, and this is heavily implied with James' "You never notice how precious air is 'til you have none" and Lupin's correction. That's also the theme I rode on for this drabble.

Sirius is fire. He's hot/handsome in the drabble. Outside of drabble, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black basically burned down with him. He burned the House down.

Lupin is water, which was stated.


	78. Dreams Diverted

Aaaaaaaaaaand I'm out! With a nice **Third Place Winner **banner and a **Participant **banner to show for this round. Total yield: Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Ronald Weasley, and Peter Pettigrew (in the form of an adorable Scabbers!) This may be good news for you lot, because that means I'm back on the romance track. After this final gen drabble, that is:

**Title:** Dreams Diverted  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG-13, a little gore  
**Prompt:** Redemption; POVs of one female character, one male, 250 words each.  
**Word Count:** 250 + 250  
**Notes:** I checked the rules and this isn't romance-focused, so therefore is still gen.

She passed him in the Great Hall, as though she could be disguised by the masses of students. So nonchalant, so indifferent; so different- how could she believe that she would escape his notice this way? Was she not a Ravenclaw?

He gave a dark little chuckle to his pun; oh, wasn't she a Ravenclaw! Or perhaps she hadn't counted on the ambition that Slytherin possesses.

Honestly, though, that had died with his death, among other significant bodily functions. He didn't love her anymore; oh, how he could remember loving her! Memories of life were so powerful, and many a soul had lost his spirit in them, so much more vivid than the "present…" in a twisted divergence from the usual fare.

He remembered his wild threat- his passion _would_ divest itself, there was no containing it… He remembered groping his gut and finding red liquid that was not an even, watery solution, but slightly pulpy, congealing and drying unevenly in his arms. He remembered the relentless striking of his weapon, every stroke to absolve himself of his guilt.

Now he felt drained, as though his paleness had been wrought by a wringing of his organs, leaking of his blood. No longer did he require her to be the proud Baroness and subservient wife. The Middle Ages were long past, and in him the dissolving of absolute ideals had been far more abrupt.

With a word from her, perhaps he'd forget.

Memories, so vivid!

So much had died in death.

~?~

"He wears his chains as an act of penitence… as he should," and the messy haired boy retreated to perform whatever worthy business. He, the ostracized monster. She stayed in the same hall, her moods oscillating among shades of anger as she drifted.

As a young girl she had reveled in the day she would undergo Sorting and her mother would give up her standards… She hadn't anticipated that Rowena would say, "Oh, she's mine" and that it was automatically assumed that, indeed, Ravenclaws are Ravenclaw and that's all there is to it. And certainly, it was more teenage rebellion than innate personality that drew her away from her destined place… she'd taken such pains to thwart the mother she so resented, until finally she stole the diadem, a manifestation of her strangled dreams.

Her teenage rebellion never ended, forever seventeen, petulant, willful, and utterly anachronistic. Her mother's last act was of reconciliation, and she had denied it, just as she had denied her mother _everything_.

Impossible tears flowed freely now. After all of her airs as a child, she found herself in this pathetic position. Ravenclaws did what was _right_: intelligence corresponds to thoroughly evaluative choices… Helena despised the guilt pooling in her transparent midsection more than even him.

Confiding the tale of her miserable, hypocritical existence had forced her to face it.

She had denied him forgiveness as atonement for never being able to receive her own; but that had been wrong, and she could never forgive herself.

* * *

**A/N2:** When I titled the above piece, I recalled this poem by Langston Hughes:

_What happens to a dream deferred?_

_Does it dry up _  
_like a raisin in the sun? _  
_Or fester like a sore- _  
_And then run? _  
_Does it stink like rotten meat? _  
_Or crust and sugar over- _  
_like a syrupy sweet?_

_Maybe it just sags _  
_like a heavy load._

_Or does it explode?_

**A/N3: **General notes on the genhp_ldws: The competition was fun, and I'll definitely return for their next event. I have learned that oftentimes the voters prefer less peripheral characters, and that POV does not necessarily mean I have to torture myself with first person.


	79. An Instruction in Originality

**Title: **An Instruction in Originality  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Carols (Sorry for the delay! Cast your minds back to Christmas, please)  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes:** On most occasions, Ginny wins the arguments.

On most occasions, their differences in upbringings caused not an ounce of strife.

As the Potter household approached Christmas, however, Harry began recalling the years before 1991- the forbidden years, Ginny said: With forbidden happiness, t'was better not to think of them.

Objectively as reasonably possible, he queried his bustling beauty, "Why aren't there any original wizard carols?"

"What do you mean?"

"Take 'Bless Ye Merry Hippogriffs,' for one- give or take a couple hippogriffs, and identical to any muggle carolers' agenda."

Ginny, unfazed by this argument, rebutted: "Hear the Sorting Hats' version, and you'll be singing a different tune."


	80. Consumer Wisdom

**Title**: Consumerism  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG _(mentions "the act")_  
**Prompt:** Fairy Lights (still Christmastime; I have a _lot_ of catching up to do!)  
**Word Count: **100  
**Notes:** I created Magi*Mart near the inception of this drabble series, and will consider it pseudo-canon for my purposes. After all, wizards must have grocery stores as well as their joke shops, candy shops, clothing shops, dark-item shops, apothecaries, pet shops, quidditch shops, and numerous bars.

Harry regarded the humming fairy lights with a small frown. When he'd requested them from Magi*Mart, he hadn't expected to house _actual_ fairies…

It wasn't a problem in itself, but they're near the mistletoe. And contrary to what they'd told little James, mistletoe was not a chaste matter.

Perhaps if he'd been more attentive in Care of Magical Creatures …nah, Hagrid preferred _scarier_ beasts than fairies.

Double-checking his old textbooks, he'd been relieved to find that the fairies used in lights were post-mating season, but it took time to wrap his head around:

_Most fairies increase fertility in their surroundings._


	81. Small Forest Animals

**Title: **Small Forest Animals  
**Author&Rating: **Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt: **Chestnuts  
**Word Count: **100  
**Notes: ** The link is a bit hard to find in this one, but this is what popped in my head upon hearing the prompt. Another conflict/resolution piece, with a mock-epic tone.

"I will not stand this." Two weeks after engagement, and raised voices already.

"Mum's been squirreling away for years, just for this day," the soon-to-be wife pled with a man who was suddenly imitating his Victorian role. "Just give her this satisfaction, before she lets me go."

"Every time your family has been worried or worse for wear, I've restrained myself; your financial concerns were none of my business. Now, they are."

"I appreciate your concern, but… she's a traditionalist. You won't get away with paying my dowry."

"Then I'll be your wife."

The storm clouds were scattered by laughter.

* * *

**Second Note:** Thank you, dukebrymin, for this Merriam Webster Dictionary definition:

_a_ **:** an old joke or story _b_ **:** something (as a musical piece or a saying) repeated to the point of staleness


	82. Watching: the Sequel

**Title**: An Eye on the Weather  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Sunlit Days  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes:** Deathly Hallows, Scholastic ed. pages 435-438 were referenced. And present tense is an interesting experiment.

A six week stretch of boredom… nostalgic bliss. January had been rainy and unpleasant. But now, there is nothing to distinguish February through March 1997 from May through June 1996.

"Want to switch, mate?" Ron asks, fruitlessly. Harry'd been opting to take watch since the Lovegood save. _To escape their "obsession" on Horcruxes and muse 'bout Hallows_, Ron reckons. Shaking his head, he returns to the tent, to hypotheses and Hermione.

Harry knows that Ron thinks this, but also that he'll never be corrected. Chin on palm, he stares into sunlit days, remembering six weeks that made these worth it.


	83. History Repeats Itself II

**Title**: History Repeats Itself (the Sequel)  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Sunlit Days  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes:**The companion piece to Weather Reports. I wrote them in a row, inspired by the other. Can most definitely stand alone, of course.

_May second_, Ginny murmured, her hands running through hair messier than she'd remembered. Centimeters from her soft mouth, he heard her, hung to her words like rope.

Harry checked his watch.

_Yes_, Ginny confirmed. _Eight days later, a year ago, we kissed_.

_I know_, Harry said. If they blinked, they eyelashes would've tangled. Where were his glasses? The dormitory, before he'd napped? Thrown off in the embraces and handshakes after Voldemort dropped? It didn't matter. He would always see her perfectly. _True love and sunlit days_, he remarked. _Just like last time_.

"You'd better not ditch me this time around."

* * *

**Note Dhecai:** "hung to her words like rope" was totally inspired by the imagery of The Book Thief by Mark Zusak. If you like beautiful writing, appreciate dark humor, and can stand historical fiction (in the respect that no one's hopping on a dragon for this one), then read it! And if you recognize the book and/or recognize the Asian language that "dhecai" was approximated from, then you are... really, really cool. Like Barty Crouch Sr. cool.


	84. Investment Options

**Title**: Investment Options**  
Author/Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Pride  
**Word Count: **100  
**Notes**: I sat down and thought: _I should catch up with my Weasleys!_ Then I decided, _Hm, I want to do Molly/Arthur next._ Then I wrote this, trimmed it to 100 words, felt content... Then I realized that I hadn't followed a prompt. *sheepishness abound* Luckily, one of the current prompts fit. :)

Molly's scolding was cut off by his own tirade. " 'What's the use of being a disgrace if they don't even pay you well?' " Arthur quoted bitterly as she, with difficulty, dabbed at his cut lip. "I make twice as much in a year than he'll ever-"

"I know, sweetie." She's heard it before.

"You know what it takes to clothe and feed seven children?"

"_Yes_, Arthur," Molly gave up trying to soothe both lip and ego. "But would you give up any one of our babies for what he has?

"No," he sighed, and smiled gently. "I guess I wouldn't."


	85. Display of Affection

**Title**: PDA  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG (see title)  
**Prompt**: New Year  
**Word Count**: 100**Notes**: According to Ginny, Bill "likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour...I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm." I've always thought Bill, the adventurous curse-breaker, and Fleur, the French belle, would have a rather passionate relationship… With no further ado:

"Happy New Year," Mama purred, and I scowled at them.

"Go off to Andromeda's and be sickening over there. Their clock runs a bit late, so you might catch him," Papa advised with a hearty wink.

I rolled my eyes- they just wanted to be alone. "They aren't late; it's called _time zones_," but I left them there and bade adieu to my grandparents, who smiled, requesting only that I _Silencio_'ed the guest room's door on my way out.

Wrapping my arms around the delighted Theodore Lupin, I decided that it wasn't always mortifying to have parents who understand romance.


	86. Wishing you were somehow:hic:

**Title: **Scared Sober  
**Author&Rating: **Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt: **"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."  
**Word Count: **499  
**Notes:** Begins at the end of Goblet of Fire. The dialogue was annoying to write. :)

"Winky mustn't cry. Winky must stop crying. Winky…" The desperate words gave way to hiccoughing, and when that, too, subsided, she rubbed her eyes with bony wrists. "Winky is alone?"

"No, Dobby has not left Winky," came Dobby's voice from the shadows. "Is Winky feeling better?" he continued tentatively and shuffled into view, peering into the empty end of a butterbeer vessel.

"Winky's master is dead! Winky's shame is public! Winky's master's secrets is bare! Winky is failed her master!"

"The Minister does not believe Harry Potter, so Winky's master's secrets is still safe, Dobby thinks so…"

Dobby retreated at her screams. _Not better_,_ then_. He reattached his favorite socks to his ear canals and resumed bustling about, tucking in blankets and fetching more butterbeer.

~?~

Winky's brown eyes were tinged with red, but at least she was no longer drunk. "Winky?"

"Huh?"

"Winky, is you happy now?"

"Why would Winky be happy? Why would Dobby think Winky be happy?" Winky's eyes bunched up, but no more tears came. "Maybe Winky is happy. But Winky should not be! Winky bad elf!"

Dobby sighed. Butterbeer almost seemed attractive to him, too.

~?~

"Winky, you must come!" Winky had been bedridden with withdrawal for weeks- the weeks that Dobby had denied her more butterbeer ("Aberforth does not give Butterbeer to Dobby longer," Kreacher had explained nervously.)

The sulking elf hardly stirred. Dobby's passive presence had been standard for the last three years. The other elves had stopped counting her in their daily work estimations (to avoid having to make it up; Dobby had always done it before), and she had been boozily content in her squalor.

"Kreacher must, then!" and she was yanked to her feet, worn blouse and skirt crumpled beyond normal repair. "Winky will come join Harry Potter and his friends. Kreacher has called the elves to help, and Dobby told Kreacher to not leave Winky."

"Winky does not want to go."

He shook her angrily. "Winky is a _bad _elf! Winky says for years that she has failed her Master! Good elves punish and _go back to work_! Winky punished, but does not work! Winky failed Winky's Master once, and war among wizards began. Kreacher and Kreacher's master Harry Potter work to fix Winky's failure. Dobby worked for Winky and Winky's master and Kreacher's master, and _Winky must continue Dobby's work!_"

"Where is Dobby?"

Kreacher released her. "Dobby left service to save Kreacher's master, Harry Potter…"

Winky's eyes were suddenly alert. "Left service…"

"Dobby fought for Winky's master's cause." _For the cause of both Kreacher's masters…_ "Dobby was a good elf. Is Winky a good elf?" Kreacher sighed and left, muttering a bit as habit as he did so.

"Left service…" Once again, Winky had lost her Master. Never had she even thanked him or showed him her love or anything beyond… "Bad elf!"

With a sob, Winky smashed her head against the wall one last time, and then apparated to the battlefield to finish her Masters' work.


	87. Comforting Comparisons

**Title: **Comforting Comparisons  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Winner  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes:** I'll get back to the catch-up prompts later.

"Hey, Ginny?" Harry asked her after a particularly harrowing nightmare.

"Aw, baby," Ginny mumbled drowsily, hoisting herself up and rubbing her eyes. "Can't sleep?"

"Do you ever remember it? Being possessed, in his head…"

"Yeah, sometimes," she said quietly, adjusting her position for the few occasions in which she had to protect him. "You need some Dreamless Sleep to get you through the night? I'll stay up until you go to sleep."

Harry ignored this with a far off gaze, and asked, "If he haunts you, too, then how do you go on?"

"I remember that I married the winner."


	88. Empathy

**Title:** Empathy  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG (mentions birth, but isn't a problem unless you are a firm stork-believer.)  
**Prompt:** Fun, Strength, Noble, Pride  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes: ** Aw, ickle Ronniekins. But seriously, Harry and Ginny are awful at picking out names. Though, in the words of Hank Green, "Adolescents are going to find their angst _somewhere_- might as well be their name."

The bright-eyed boy yawned, lazily waving an impossibly plump, impossibly tiny arm at his already doting father.

"Hey mate." Ron arrived, yawning himself. "Out alright, then?"

"Yeah," Ginny answered wearily.

"What's the bugger's name?"

"Albus Severus Potter," Harry said, beaming with pride. "You know, it doesn't get any less magical the second-"

He was cut off by Ron's roar, which luckily represented amusement. "_Albus_ _Severus_? A girl'd be what, Chastity? Nobility? Strength? Kids are people, not _things_ to name for _fun_!"

Harry was baffled, but Ginny smirked. "How's Hermione, then?"

"Suggested _Victoria._ What am I to _do_ with you people?"

* * *

**A/N II:** On the timeline: precedes "Inspired By Art," chapter 6.


	89. Blooming

Sorry for being so long between updates!

**Title:** All Grown Up  
**Prompt:** Up, and a little Secret  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Author&Rating/Warnings:** Loonynamelass&PG, and I'm passing you a small warning to the effect that this drabble may require a small warning.  
**Notes**: The prompts include _secret_ because the secrets of broom-riding have been kept from Lily for so long.

"It's time," he announced, face crinkling in happiness. After years of bliss, he still prized that first real _play_ of his childhood…

"All my friends have ridden for ages!"

"I never knew brooms _could_ fly until I was eleven," Harry reassured, "Like you are today."

It was unwrapped, but the gift could never _really_ be given until: "Put your hand over and say _up_."

"Like Mum does to her bras?"

Harry's mind frantically sought context… and he caught it: _Lily and I are going school shopping, back in a few…_

Lily stood over her father's limp form and enunciated, "Up!"


	90. The Guessing Game

**Title: **The Guessing Game  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Prompt:** Romance  
**Author&Rating/Warnings:** Loonynamelass, PG, fluffy fluff  
**Notes:** He's still wrong, but it's okay.

An arm drooped around her neck and Ginny felt a kiss above her ear. "Morning," came his sleepy voice, "you early bird!"

"Doves are more apt," she said. "You know what day it is?"

"Er," Harry considered. "You're up early… Roses are strewn all over the street… And you look so, so pretty and I really, really love you…"

"And?"

"Well, I oughta whip up breakfast," he straightened up, fixed his glasses. "And then we'll hit the town to celebrate, I 'spect."

"…You have no idea what day it is."

He played his last card: "Another day with you?"

"Always."


	91. Reciprocation and Hunting for Humor

Two drabbles I'm not exactly thrilled with, and my first written in a while, so I'll put them up together to make it up to y'all.**  
**

* * *

**Title: **Reciprocation  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Prompt:** Singing Valentine  
**Author&Rating/Warnings:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Notes:** I had a hard time figuring out how to end the thing. But I had to move on and start drabbling again!

"Our …_first_ Valentine's together?" he'd parroted blankly.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten!"

"No, just…" With a sizzling pop, his sooty, scarred head left her without another word until…

~?~

_Her eyes are brown as thick shallow mud_

_Hair, as bright as fire_

_I'm glad she is mine; she is so fine_

_Even in highest ire_

"Harry Potter told Dobby to tell Miss that was she who'd forgotten," the elf babbled proudly. "Also, Dobby sings better but Harry Potter told not to, for memories."

Amid staring coworkers and miffed boss, she managed, "Your outfit is… lovely. Tell him I certainly remember now."

* * *

**Title:** Hunting for Humor  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Prompt:** Leprechaun  
**Author&Rating/Warnings:** Loonynamelass, PG, Still not super amazing, I'm rather out of practice.  
**Notes:** "Fred and George were born - when else? - on April Fool's Day." This happens at a point in their relationship where they at least live together.

"Keep your voice down!"

"Aha!" Harry held fast to the small creature's boot. "How's that for Seeker reflexes?"

"Chasers are still better, sweetheart. Teamwork, involvement in the game-"

"I could still let him go. You still haven't told me what all this is about!"

She pouted, and the leprechaun, hoping for sympathy, mimicked her. "Can't it wait two weeks?"

"Gin, if we're to house this justifiably upset critter fourteen days, I need to hear a good reason."

"I wanted to give George gold for his birthday."

"But we _have_ gold… And _his_ gold'll only disappear…"

"See? That's a good reason!"


	92. Insecurity

**To the 8 people who read Hunting for Humor before 7/17/11:** I changed "Fred and George" to just read "George." Alas, I always forget. Maybe I'm just ensnared in subconscious denial?

* * *

**Title**: Insecurity  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Devotion, Sparks, Recovery  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes/Warnings:** Harry knows loss well, but for Ginny, the loss of Fred is her first, and she plunges into a spiral of depression, not helped by the additional losses of Tonks, a friend, Lupin, a mentor, Colin, a peer...

_Harry's life had once been marked by antagonists: relatives, Voldemort, and government._

_Now, 24, caged in normalcy, he feels dead without the adrenaline, the sparks of battle. He finds himself still subconsciously raging against the machine as he chases after that which would make the world wrongly despise him once again…_

"Ginny, stop this. It'll only worsen the depression, the healer said-"

"To nurture my interests."

Harry sighed. "Just… Know that no amount of 'Drarry' fanfiction can change the fact that you'll _always_ have enough spark for me." _And that I'll never tire of restoring the sparks to your eyes._

* * *

**Additional Notes:**

**1. **This is similar to Comforting Comparisons and Summer Come, Summer Go, with the roles reversed.

**2. **This exists in a universe similar to Creationism/Evolution in the Wizarding World or my one-shot It's All In the Presentation, which is basically the universe where both you and I and Harry and Ginny live (wizards know about us, we think they're fictional). I'm planning on publishing something (on ffn) about that some time.

**3.** Random ideas in my head had Ginny objecting that she really just enjoyed tricking the muggles about her husband's manner, and Harry concluding that such a hobby would certainly be considered muggle-baiting by Arthur.


	93. Staying Awake

**Title**: Staying Awake  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG (in the same manner that HBP was PG)  
**Prompt:** Summer, Exhaustion, Bravery, Light, Hope, Celebration, Fireworks, Hormones  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Notes/Warnings:** Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Harry'd never welcomed summer so heartily; never had a school year hold such exhaustion as the non-school year spent as resident Symbol of Light and Beacon of Hope.

While all celebrated the fruits of his tireless bravery, he had to rub his eyes between every lavish party and every blink.

Finally, after a week of non-stop celebrity showings, he lay in bed, unable to close his eyes. "Aren't you sleepy, dear?" Ginny asked, slipping into her nightgown.

Suppressing his yawn was not at all difficult. "Hormones are _far_ more effective than fireworks," he explained, pulling her into a burning kiss.

* * *

**A/N2:** I should really be sleeping right now.

Instead, I'm offering you a present! In your reviews, suggest a pair of characters, prompt, and word count, and I'll do a drabble on it. Romantic pairings preferred but not required. HP canon will be strictly followed as always. There's been a heavy lean on Harry/Ginny as of late (I work with the prompts I'm given), so I figure that this is a chance to get back to what this drabble collection is supposed to be about: variety!

It'll be a first-come first-serve system, and your suggestions will take precedence over the prompts of the communities I'm in (_except_ for contests).

So get to it!


	94. Fretting Fixed

**_To DukeBrymin's prompt:_  
**

* * *

**Title**: Fixing the Fretting  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt&Word Count:** Molly/Arthur; Pixies; 159 words  
**Notes/Warnings:** A bit different than _Watching the Clock_, where Arthur soothes Molly with mere logic. I believe neither of them to be more true than the other, though. I think that the drabbles are not mutually exclusive, though; they just each highlight a different part of the A/M dynamic.

Hearing stifled sobs from their bedroom, Arthur apparated to his wife's side, swift and discreet. He started thumbing off the tears, but Molly turned away, ashamed.

"You heard me? Oh, no! I shouldn't have been so loud. I can't believe I let a simple boggart upset me so…"

He quickly changed tactics: "What? I was just fetching you because… ah... Sirius found another pixie infestation!"

She spun around, brushing her cheeks impatiently as though they were Ronald's nose, scenes of pixie havoc playing in her mind. "Tsk! You lot can't do _any_ cleaning properly!"

Arthur smiled, satisfied (self-deprecating to her), for he'd always been adept at relieving Molly's griefs.

~?~

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

He kept from brightening as he saw all recollection of worry for his health and Percy vanish.

~?~

Now, not a boggart nor dread deferred…

Aghast as well, he couldn't have devised a better distraction than Lestrange.

But he still held her afterward.

* * *

**A/N II:** Prompt suggestions still open! Line-logic still applies here; the sooner you suggest, the sooner after _Scrivensabre_'s drabbles you'll be.


	95. Oh So Virtuous

**_To Scrivensabre's prompt:  
_**

* * *

**Title**: Patience  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Ron/Hermione; Fred and George  
**Word Count:** 49 + 76 + 110 + 15 = 250  
**Notes/Warnings:** Without a word limit, this one just went longer and _longer_! Hope y'all don't get antsy.

"_Why have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"_

"Ah, Ronniekins," Fred noted proudly. "Perhaps a little brotherly love's in order?"

"Quite kind to him last year, weren't we, Fred? I s'pose we were just…"

"Giving the little bloke a year to…"

"Develop a false sense of security…"

~?~

"They will be roving around the school today delivering valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure…"

"If Lockhart's putting up a farce, it's bloody brilliant!"

"Nah, he's too daft for that," opined Lee.

"He _does_ create the _perfect_ atmosphere for some pranking, doesn't he?" A crafty smile spread across his face. "Say, George, just occurred to me that Ron acts right _odd _round that gal of his…"

"Do I sense… _opportunity,_ my dear Fred?"

~?~

The pair poked their heads around the corner, in prime view of the bickering two. Students milled around unworriedly; s'long as the twins weren't looking at _them_ like that, they were content to leave well enough alone.

As the twelve year olds wandered away, George turned to Fred and whispered, "I'm thinkin' that, given enough time, there'll be enough hilarity from the pair of 'em…"

"With her distracted with Lockhart and Ron off…"

"...Being Ron…"

"I'd estimate we've years of humor in store without any need to provoke it."

"Signing it _Ronniekins_ would've been telling, anyway," sighed George. With that, George whistled the dwarf back and snatched the pink script.

~?~

Good timing's essential to any good prank. ...And the wedding more than vindicated the wait.

* * *

**A/N II: **Though Fred would have been gone by that time :( , I'm sure they planned it together. Also, still accepting prompts! :)


	96. Hypothetical

Hey, so you haven't seen me in... Oooh, quite a while. There are a lot of drabbles heading your way, though; I attempted NaNoWriMo this year for the first time ever, and won! Writing for quantity is _very_ different than drabbling, so here's hoping I recover fast. Pre-November slacking and, well, November gave me a lot to cover!

First, I have four reader prompts to take care of!

* * *

**To **_**Tzadikim:**_

**Title**: An Appreciation for the Hypothetical  
**Author&Rating**: Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Harry and Ignotus; Master, Understanding; 100 words  
**Notes/Warnings: 1) **I always thought Harry was Master of Death briefly in the woods; he had just been using the resurrection stone and the cloak, and he unknowingly "owned" the Elder Wand. Therefore, Harry survives on a total overkill of circumstance, y'all. **2)** This prompt was somehow beastly for me. It was just hard to approach it as a prompt to a drabble and not as a prompt to the awesome-est essay ever. It doesn't help that I'm ridiculously rusty. So, be warned that I'm not entirely certain about this one. **3) **This is still canon because this is meant to have happened before and after the series, not necessarily during.** 4)** "Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

In his emotionally abused youth, Harry never tired of imagining associations with his "actual" family. In his comfortable and loved adulthood, this childhood activity still enthralled him.

~?~

"Hullo," Harry might say. "I was Master of Death once."

"I was never Master of Death," Ignotus returns. "How'd it go?"

"...Not brilliantly. I prefer your way."

"My-?"

"Understanding."

"Befriending does reward more than enslaving."

"Hermione would like that."

~?~

Where there'd been compassionate Mum admonishing away any cruel influence and noble Dad any victim mentality, now there were new relatives offering their conversations.

Whimsical, tangential, unnaturally voiced, t'was different but was no less real.

* * *

**Post Drabble A/N:** So, I'm still open to prompts. I have a little lineup, but I should be done with those fairly soon, and, as I said before, your prompts take priority.


	97. A Mad Tea Party

**To **_**Stories Are Magic:**_

**Title:** A Mad Tea Party  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Ginny's Birthday  
**Word Count:** 100  
**Warnings/Notes:** Ginny goes out into public either by Polyjuicing/Transfiguring herself, or just pulling a Michelle Obama (who apparently just went out grocery shopping one day sans bodyguards and shoppers didn't really notice except in hindsight). (Michelle Obama is the wife of the President of the United States; I realize that I shouldn't assume everyone to be super versed in the families of American politicians (though I hear from some of my friends that they personally find American politics rather amusing).)

"Ah, hello, dear," said the cashier, brightening to see such a rosy countenance. After observing dozens of bone-tired, disagreeable shoppers, this woman's excitement was out of place. "What's the occasion?"

"Sorry?" Ginny stopped humming to ask, her smile only dimming slightly in her confusion.

"You look awful excited, is all," said the teenager bagging, also drawn to Ginny's happiness.

"Oh… nothing special," Ginny shrugged, trying to conserve details to preserve her disguise, before thanking them for their help and her groceries.

After all, it didn't take anything extra for each day as Harry Potter's wife to feel like Ginny's birthday.

* * *

**A/N II:** I wrote it with nothing but the prompt on my mind, but, gosh, this idea feels like _such_ a rip-off when I think it over (sort of like "Changing Conversation," except I actually hadn't heard the song beforehand). Props to: _Through the Looking Glass _(referenced in the title as well) and a little _Sideways Stories of Wayside School_ .


	98. The Russel Terrier's Reward

**To **_**Stories Are Magic, again:**_

**Title:** The Russell Terrier's Reward  
**Author&Rating:** Loonynamelass, PG  
**Prompt:** Proposal, Ron/Hermione  
**Word Count:** 100-499 (499)  
**Warnings/Notes: **This drabble broke my record for drafts. Cutting and editing and re-cutting and editing and yep. The structure stayed identical the entire time, though. Also, pluperfect can be quite annoying! I should probably study the English tenses; maybe those would be less wordy than the Latin ones. Also, tempted to replace elegant title with famous Aretha Franklin lyrics. Also, no more also, it's time to d-d-d-d, d-d-d-d-d-d-drabble!

Ron edged to the door of Hermione's flat, grateful for the Antihydriosis Tie George had given him ("How could I say no to free product testing- er, my brother in need!").

He knocked. His back pocket burned for eons before she finally greeted him.

"Hey," he grinned, and she smiled tiredly back. "Ready to go?" Surveying her haphazard hair and dusty denims, he doubted a positive answer.

"Oh!" her eyes widened. "We're going out tonight? Merlin I don't know how I could have forgotten-" Already her planner was beside her, rattling off deadline after deadline after date.

"It's alright," Ron said, his stomach falling. Organized, responsible Hermione so harried was quite a cause for concern.

"No, it's not. And you look so nice, too!"

"What got you all bent out of shape?"

"I just have this proposal due tomorrow… I'm having a beastly time trying to fit it all together. It's _slavery_, it shouldn't _need_ explanation- I just have too much to say and I'm seven feet too long and not half done and-"

"Shhh," he intervened, stepping over the threshold and into her cold, messy apartment, letting the door fall closed behind him, pulling her into a hug.

"D'you think…" Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him; t'would be a lie to say it wasn't at all alluring. "you could help me?"

He ignored the box now heavy in his robes. "'Course… We're heroes; the restaurant won't mind our rescheduling."

~?~

Harry'd little talent in Divination but had a sense for danger; similarly, Ron had a sense that this unobtrusive night offered great opportunity for them.

Peers chortled at the idea of dimwitted Ron Weasley and brilliant Hermione Granger hitting it off. "Perhaps Granger likes a perpetual upper hand," Rita Skeeter quoted Cormac McLaggen in an article just two months prior.

So Ron had gone and procured a ring; a ring for Hermione and for all they were together. Buried to the tailored waist of his robes in House Elf Law Codes and Moral Dissertations and blank parchment and proposal drafts, Ron was never better.

~?~

"Hang on a moment; we've forgotten someone!" Seven words (seven, the most powerfully magical number) began their dating. A small step for house elves had been a huge leap for Ron Weasley.

Minutes before dawn, weariness wound backward, the pair grinning in triumph. The proposal, thick, polished, perfected proof of their collaboration and her trust, lay completed before them. "Thank you, thank _you_," she peppered her gratitude with kisses. "My diplomat, scribe, editor, chef, _hero_."

Ron smiled under the giddy onslaught. "Well, now _your_ homework's done, I've something to do, too, before I hit the hay. Could you help me?"

"Oh! I didn't mean to take away from _your_- if I'd _known_- you should have said-"

"Shhh," he said, the second time that night. "Stand a minute, would you?"

Though quizzical, she obliged.

Seven words:

"Answer if you're awake enough: marry me?"

The sun reared above the horizon to witness her yes.

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**A/N II: **So, one prompt left in my queue before I move on to insane Harry/Ginny prompt mashing. Though, of course, you're welcome to break my "plans" with a friendly prompt tucked in a review.


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